


Time After Time

by bluecurls



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Returns, Darcy is the fandom bicycle and I love it, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11321646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls
Summary: Darcy Lewis and Steve Rogers were friends until one night showed them that they could be more. With Steve obsessed about finding Bucky, Darcy chooses to be an adult and tells him he needs to focus on that.Maturity sucks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost. The story was first published in 2015, then removed in 2016 for copyright violation regarding the song lyrics, so that's been edited.

_If you wanna leave_

_I won't beg you to stay_

_And if you gotta go darling_

_Maybe it's better that way_

Don’t Turn Around – Ace of Base

* * *

Darcy’s hand was poised to knock, fingers clenched in a tight fist, when the door swung open. “Oh shit,” she swore, shock and surprise making her stumble. Steve’s hands shot out, steadying her, his grip on her arms strong and sure. 

“Darcy,” he smiled, his face lighting up as he tugged her inside, kicking the door closed with his booted foot. “I’m glad you stopped by. Sam’s got a lead, but I wanted to talk to you before we take off.” He led her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair, not bothering to sit until she did. His old fashioned manners never failed to make her heart flutter. She folded her hands on top of the table before remembering what he did to her on the table the night before. She dropped her hands in her lap, obviously very unstealthily from the look Steve gave her.

“Right.” His smile faded. “About last night –“

“Please don’t.”

“I think I should.”

She shook her head. She didn’t want to have this conversation. If she wanted to have this conversation, she wouldn’t have snuck out of Steve’s apartment at the butt crack of dawn. When she woke, Steve’s arms around her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, her first instinct was to snuggle deeper into the warmth of him and enjoy, but that would have been wrong.

She and Steve straddled the line of friendship and flirting for months, bonding almost instantly over the always-entertaining pastime of driving Tony insane. At first it was a contest to see which of them could make him crack first – Darcy by questioning his every decision, Steve by playing up the “man out of time” angle to hilarious results – but they quickly realized they worked better as a team.

_“You are a little shit, aren’t you?” Darcy laughed as Tony left the Avengers’ kitchen with the Iron Man-red toaster cradled in his arms. “They totally left that out of the history books!”_

_“Captain America is the ideal son.”_

_“And Steve Rogers?”_

_He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’m not sure I should divulge all my secrets right away, Miss Lewis,” he smirked. “A man’s gotta play every angle he can to keep a dame like you interested.”_

She was interested. He had no idea how interested. But Darcy was smart. You didn’t survive two alien attacks and tase a god without something going on upstairs. Anyone could see Steve Rogers wasn’t looking for a Relationship with a capital R, but friends. To him, the people he loved and lost were only a few weeks gone. He needed to grieve. He needed to grow. He needed to figure out what the hell he wanted. He needed to find his place. If that meant Darcy was his navigator, it was a role she was more than happy to fill. After all, guys come and go, but friends were forever. That’s why she cried with Steve in the hospital, bruised and battered, the serum putting his broken body back together as he wept for the friend he thought he lost.

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. The other half to Steve’s whole.

 _"_ _Even when I didn’t have anything, I had Bucky.”_

_She looked at Sam, the other man shaking his head in silence. He was new to the whole superhero thing, but the past few days were one hell of a crash course._

_“What’s the plan?” Darcy asked as Steve tightened his arms around her, no longer crying, but not ready to let go. She ignored the cramp in her leg as she ran her fingers through his hair, offering what little comfort she could._

_“Easy. We find him,” Sam said._

_Steve pulled back, keeping one arm around Darcy as he studied the man who hadn’t left his side since his body was found on the banks of the Potomac River. “You don’t have to,” he started. “You can still walk away.”_

_“You’ve got to stop making me repeat myself, man,” Sam told him. “Captain America needs my help, I’m in. It’s as simple as that.”_

Only it wasn’t simple. Darcy watched as Steve and Sam set out to find a man who had been trained (a nice way of saying tortured and brainwashed) to be invisible, a man who had decades of experience hiding, a man the freaking Black Widow called a ghost. They followed every lead they had, sniffing out every clue until the scent was lost in the wind. Steve would leave full of hope each time and return despondent. Darcy made it her job to pick him up and put him back together, to make sure he ate, slept. She already did it for the scientists. Why not add a super soldier to the mix?

It was getting harder, though. The leads were fewer, with more time in-between each one. Steve no longer had SHIELD to distract him. He worked with the Avengers, going where Earth’s mightiest heroes were needed when called, but he wasn’t the leader he once was. His focus was splintered, part of him always thinking about Bucky.

_“He’s going to get himself hurt,” Natasha said._

_"He’s Captain America,” Darcy argued. “He can’t get hurt.”_

_"The serum made him strong, Darcy. It didn’t make him immortal.”_

That scared the hell out of her. She needed Steve in her world. She’d long ago accepted that he would never see her as more than Darcy Lewis, female best friend and non-lethal sidekick. If there were mornings she woke with his name on her lips, a dream of them together fading away, that was her problem; not his. So when Steve came back from his latest Where’s Bucky? Mission looking very much like a man who needed a drink (damn the serum for making that impossible), Darcy did the next best thing. She broke into Thor’s secret stash of Asgardian mead, snagged a bottle of Tony’s best scotch, and challenged Captain America to a competition. He tried to beg off, to explain once again that it wasn’t possible, but she would not take no for an action.

_“Friends don’t let friends drink alone,” she said as she poured the Asgardian liquid into a row of glass shot glasses, also liberated from Tony. She set up a second row and filled them with the scotch, the one night she and Jane agreed never to mention again a reminder that she was not meant to consume the alcohol of gods._

_Steve scooted forward on the couch and eyed the glasses dotting the coffee table. “I thought friends didn’t let friends drunk text their exes.”_

_“That, too,” Darcy pushed a glass forward, keeping her own in hand until Steve picked it up with a sigh. “To friends!” She couched as the amber liquid burned down her throat. Yuck! She turned the glass upside down and placed it on the table. Steve mirrored her actions. “Anything?”_ _He tilted his head as he considered her question before he ruefully shook it._ _"If at first you don’t succeed." She picked up her second shot._

_It took six shots before Steve admitted he felt something. Two more shots later, he got JARVIS to help him and Darcy prank call Maria Hill. Two shots after that, they snuck down one floor to Clint’s room. Steve stood watch while Darcy sprayed liquid glue on several of his arrows and covered them with green glitter. Walking up the stairs was a blur of laughter and limbs, and somehow Steve’s legs tangled with Darcy’s as they stumbled into his apartment, his semi-lucid reflexes kicking in at the last second so his body took the brunt of the fall._

_“Thank you,” he said breathlessly as Darcy giggled on top of him._

_“You’re welcome." She planted her hands on his chest – Jesus Christ, he was built! – and pushed herself up so she could look at his stupidly handsome face. “For what?”_

_He ran a hand through her tousled curls. “For being my friend. For always being there for me. For being my Darcy.” He smiled. “I love you.”_

_Her heart flipped at his admission. “I love you, too.”_

_“No,” he struggled to sit up while keeping one strong arm around Darcy. “I don’t mean it like that.”_

_Even in her alcoholic haze, Darcy knew they were heading for forbidden territory. She had no idea how quantum physics worked, but she was aces at drunken confessions. Before Steve could confirm or clarify, she pressed her lips to his. He froze, for one second, and then his hands were in her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her back with everything he had._

_She had her first orgasm in the entryway, Steve’s lips sucking and biting the skin on her neck, his fingers pushed past the waistband of her jeans, underneath her decidedly unsexy cotton panties. He had two fingers inside her, his thumb circling her clit as he slowly pumped them in and out, making encouraging noises as she gasped his name. She’d barely caught her breath before he had her on her feet, his hands pulling away at her jeans, socks, oversized sweater and Thor T-shirt. He ripped away her panties and tugged her plain white bra down until her breasts were bared to him._

_“Christ Darcy,” he groaned before he took a nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling, mouth_ _sucking, teeth nibbling until it was one hard point. “So goddamn beautiful,” he murmured,_ _walking her backwards to the kitchen as he turned his focus to the opposite nipple._

_Her second orgasm happened on the table, her legs braced on Steve’s shoulders as his mouth on her pussy made her see god. She knew Steve wasn’t a virgin. You don’t have as many nights at a bar with a guy as she did without learning most of his sordid secrets, (always the good friend, he played along with her drunken shenanigans despite serum-enforced sobriety) but knowing he’d done time between the sheets and experiencing it firsthand were two different things. Her legs were rubber when she pushed him away, sucking in air as he leaned back in the wooden chair with a smug expression. She launched herself into his arms, grinding against his swollen erection, the fabric of his jeans making her groan as her hands fumbled to get his shirt off his body. If she was going to hell, she was going with the memory of Steve Rogers in all his naked glory._

_His slid his hands under her thigs, cupping her ass before he stood with her in his arms, their lips locked together, her tongue stroking his as he carried her to his bedroom. He tossed her on the bed with little fanfare, her laughter ending on a sigh as he finally pushed his jeans and boxers to the floor._

_“You,” she pushed herself into a kneeling position. “Here. Now.”_

_He sauntered to the edge of the bed, hissing when she took him in hand, her mouth engulfing his cock seconds later. Again, his hands went to her hair, his fingers flexing as she worked him over, taking as much of him as she could. She’d never understood the appeal of giving blow jobs. She got why guys liked them. Hello? Oral was the best, but she was never a girl who loved to give them._

_Apparently she’d been blowing the wrong guys._

_She couldn’t get enough of Steve, her cheeks hollowed out as she pulled him deeper, one hand wrapped around the base of his penis as the other gripped his thigh. His hips mimicked her mouth, thrusting slowly, rhythmically, all the while his hands clenched around her head._

_“’s alright,” she said, pulling away long enough to lock eyes with him. “You can fuck my mouth. Just not too hard, ‘kay?”_

_His hands guided her actions, his groans getting louder as his muscles tensed. She knew he was close, could feel his body prepare to let go and she wanted it. She wanted to feel him, to taste him, to swallow him down and do it all over again._

_"Darcy … baby, I’m gonna …” he made a half-hearted attempt to pull away. She tightened her grip, keeping him close as he groaned his release, his cum hitting the back of her throat. She swallowed over and over, trying to capture as much as she could, but some slipped past her closed lips. He hissed as she opened her mouth to release him, his blue eyes darkening as he watched her tongue dart out to lick it away. He moved to fuck her then, pressing forward until she was sprawled on her back, his head ducking low to nudge at her still wet pussy._

_“Steve,” she groaned, her hands gripped in his hair, pulling and tugging to bring him up to her. She needed him inside her. Now!_

_He reached over, fumbled with the drawer in his nightstand, the box of condoms spilling all over the navy blue bedspread. She slapped his hands away, snatching up one of the foil packets and ripping it open with her teeth, spitting a small piece out of her mouth as she worked it over his throbbing erection._

_Thank you, serum._

_"Stop me if you don’t want this,” he told her._

_Was he fucking crazy?_

“Why’d you leave this morning?” he asked her.

She shrugged and looked down at her hands. Did she tell him she had to go because of she stayed, she’d probably recite something from a Julia Roberts movie in an attempt to keep him tied to her forever? He didn’t need that. She would not let one night of drunken lust ruin everything.

But still. Seven fucking orgasms.

“You’re going to find Bucky.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair on a sigh. “Darcy –“

“No,” she interrupted. “You will. You have to. You’re going to find him and you’re going to bring him home and you’re going to get your friend back. That’s the mission, Cap. That’s what you need to do right now.”

He leaned forward, one hand going under her chin and lifting until she was looking at him. “What about you?”

She gave him her best cheeky grin. “You’ll always have me, Steve. I’m your friend.”

“But only my friend?” he asked.

She forced herself not to look away. She’d asked Clint to teach her how to play poker for this very reason. He had to go. She wouldn’t be the reason he didn’t. She had to make him believe that she was fine with it.

“Darcy.”

She shook her head.

“It wasn’t the alcohol, Darce.”

“I know,” she told him. “It wasn’t for me, either.”

“But now …”

She tried to smile. “It’s not our time, Steve.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out an envelope, sliding it across the table. He glanced down, his eyes narrowing at the emblem in the corner. “I’ve exhausted my science wrangler duties. Bruce is fine on his own, Jane needs an assistant who actually understands what she’s saying and Tony …” She half laughed. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone who understands what Tony needs.” She picked up the envelope. “The plan was always to go back to school, to get my master’s degree in public policy. Thor and London and aliens kind of threw me for a loop, but now …”

“You never said anything.”

She scratched at a non-existent stain on the table. “You’ve had other things on your mind.” He looked guilty. “Steve, don’t. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if I’d get in. Then I didn’t know if I’d go.”

“And now?”

She covered his hand with hers. “It’s not our time,” she repeated.

He turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together. She tried not to focus on how good, how right, her hand felt in his. “We’ll stay in touch?”

“Hells yeah we’ll stay in touch,” she told him with faked enthusiasm. “You think I taught you how to text for funsies? Dude, you've got to keep me in the loop here! Who do you think I’m counting on to tell me if Bruce and Nat ever hook up; Jane? Please.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. “And you’re gonna need my input for Bucky’s eventual pop culture integration. You know I love Sam, but I don’t trust anyone who’s Team Gale.”

Steve smiled, like she knew he would. “That’s Clint.”

“Him, too.”

Steve stood up and held his arms out. Darcy walked into them without hesitation. “I’m gonna miss you,” he murmured, his lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Duh,” she laughed, though it was a little shaky. “I’m awesome.”

* * *

Steve and Sam left an hour later. A week after that, Darcy was on a plane to Los Angeles.


	2. Chapter 2

_Call me (call me) on the line_

_Call me, call me any, anytime_

_Call me (call me) my love_

_You can call me any day or night_

_Call me_

Call Me -- Blondie

* * *

Darcy: _WTF is that?_

Steve smiled at Darcy’s message. He could practically hear her screech through the screen. For a moment, it felt like she was there.

Steve: _Our turkey._

Her response was almost instantaneous: _That’s a turkey?!?_

Steve considered the lump of charred bird on the stainless steel lid that, thankfully, had stopped smoking, though Pepper still refused for anyone to bring it inside the tower.

Steve: _Tony had an idea._

Darcy: _‘Nuff said._

Steve smiled. God he missed her – and not just because she took charge of the team’s Thanksgiving meal last year, breaking out a collection of recipes she said were passed down from generation to generation (except for the pies, which she made Tony order because Darcy did not do pies). The end result was a spread that even Thor could not finish.

Four months had passed since they said good bye. They texted daily and talked when their schedules allowed it, but it wasn’t the same.

“Pizzas are on the way!” Sam settled on one of the lounge chairs Tony had dragged on to the helipad for observation during his take on frying a turkey, also known as testing the suit’s ability to speed up the Thanksgiving meal process. Tony and Bruce were banned from the labs for two weeks for attempting drunken science. Again. Sam nudged the bird with the toe of his black boot. “How’s Darcy?”

Steve looked over. “Huh?”

Sam gave him a look, his eyes dropping pointedly to the phone Steve held in his hands. “Given that nearly everyone you know is here …”

Steve shrugged and tucked the phone into the pocket of his jacket. Sam has been trying to get him to talk about Darcy practically since the moment Steve told him she was leaving. Sam liked her. Hell, everyone liked her. What wasn’t to like? She was smart, sassy and entirely too good for him. Steve realized that seconds into their first meeting, so when she offered friendship as a consolation prize, he latched on to it like a drowning man with a life jacket.

He missed the way she’d smile at him, the way her lips would curve slowly before she reached out to squeeze his arm, his hand or, best yet, press herself against him in a quick hug. He loved how she’d latch on to him, dragging him to restaurants he had to try, movies he needed to see or that one time she signed him up to judge a drag queen competition because maybe if the world saw that Captain America accepted everyone, they’d get off their “fucking judgmental high horse already.” He refused to allow himself to remember what it felt like to hold her, kiss her, taste her; to be buried so fucking deep inside her.

His phone dinged, signally an incoming message. He took it out of his pocket and swiped the screen.

“Damn.” Sam peeked over Steve’s shoulder to look at the picture of the Thanksgiving spread at the Lewis family farm. “That’s just mean.”

* * *

Darcy: _U suck._

He smirked. He knew what he was doing when he took that picture of the Eiffel Tower. Even in the dead of winter, Paris was beautiful. _Be nice to me._

Darcy: _Why should I?_

Steve: _I got you a Christmas present._

Seconds later, an image appeared on his screen. It was Darcy, specifically a close up of her face, eyes closed, her deep red lips puckered up in a kiss. _I take it back. J’tadore._

He made it her contact picture.

* * *

_He left me a message._

Steve stared at his phone, waiting for Darcy’s response. It was late in California. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she was out. Maybe she had a date.

His phone rang. “Darce?”

“What’d the message say?”

Steve looked at the RED words hastily scrawled on the gray cement. He breathed easier when Tony confirmed it was paint. “’Stop looking for me.’”

She sighed. “And you know it’s him?”

Steve walked out of the room, eager to escape the stale scent of death and his own overwhelming feeling of loss. Another dead end. “He’s taking out Hydra dens. We get a word on one; he somehow hits it before we do.”

“No more Hydra. Or one less Hydra. That’s a good thing, Steve.”

“He’s doing it alone.” Steve looked around the grounds of what had been an active Hydra base several miles outside of Benghazi. Bodies littered the ground, though the tech had been left intact. Tony was having a field day with that discovery while Natasha and Sam combed the area under Clint’s watchful eye.

“But he’s doing good,” Darcy argued. Steve could have pointed out that Bucky’s definition of good was killing, but then he caught the sound of her shifting on something soft. Her couch? Her bed? Was she alone?

“It’s late. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Go back to sleep.”

She huffed a laugh. “Nice try, Cap. Talk to me.”

He leaned against a tree. “What do you think I should do?”

“That depends. Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or do you want me to tell you what I think you should hear?”

“They aren’t the same?”

“No,” she said around a long yawn.

He took a deep breath. “Lay it on me.”

“Listen to him.”

“You mean …”

“I mean it’s time to stop looking.”

Steve slumped against the tree. “You told me I’d find him.”

“Haven’t you, in a way?” This sigh was more weary than tired. “I still think you’ll find him, Steve – when he’s ready to be found. He has a mission. Maybe he’s not going about it like you would, but it’s obvious it’s something he feels strong about. And if he’s still the Bucky you remember, he’s not going to stop until he’s ready to, so instead of chasing after him and possibly scaring him off completely, do him a solid and let him be.”

He tried to put himself in Bucky’s shoes, to imagine what he was feeling after all these years. Sam said he was likely suffering from PTSD. Bruce tried to use the information they’d gathered from various Hydra holds to piece together the torture Bucky suffered at the hands of Hydra to explain how his body and mind was reacting to the breakdown of his conditioning. Steve knew they were trying to help, but every new theory left him feeling more and more helpless.

He let Bucky go once. He couldn’t save him on the train and let him go. How was he supposed to do it again?

“Steve? You still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here, doll.”

“You’re not abandoning him.”

He scoffed at her words. “What makes you so sure?”

“’Cause it’s you.”

* * *

Natasha closed the lid on his laptop. “Why don’t you go visit her?”

“Who?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’ve been obsessively googling birthday present ideas since Sunday. Your search words are getting worse.”

“Stop hacking my computer, Natasha.”

“It wasn’t me.”

Steve glared at the ceiling even though he knew, technically, that JARVIS (and Tony) couldn’t see him. “I think we spend too much time together.”

Natasha stole his computer and started typing, her fingers flying over the keys with speed and confidence Steve knew he’d never have. “I don’t disagree, which is another reason you should get away for a few days.” She hit the enter key with a flourish. “There. I reserved Tony’s private jet in your name. You leave in thirty-two hours; plenty of time to go to Levain Bakery and buy three dozen of the dark chocolate peanut butter chip cookies she loves.”

“Three dozen?”

“We both know you’ll eat twelve on the flight.”

Darcy’s cookies arrived in the mail, overnight express, with a birthday card that was so cheesy, she knew Steve bought it at a corner drugstore at the last minute. She had one for breakfast and another for lunch. By the time night fell without word or message from him, she finished three more, then texted her friend Michelle that she changed her mind and they were going out for her birthday.

She deliberately left her phone at home. When she stumbled in after three in the morning, there were several missed phone calls and one text message: _He’s home._

* * *

“Who’s Darcy?”

Steve looked up from the pile of clothes he’d carried into his second bedroom. Bucky’s bedroom. He was here, in the tower, in his suite. How was this possible?

“Don’t make the face,” Bucky warned. “I hate the face.”

“How do you know you hate the face? You’re a recovering amnesiac, remember?”

“And there’s the smartass I’ve been avoiding,” Bucky smirked, tugging a white T-shirt out of the pile and pulling it on. He had no idea what kind of reception he’d get when Steve boarded the plane and saw him waiting in one of the plush leather seats. He was prepared for shock, possible cursing. Maybe even a fist in the face; he had shot him after all. Instead, he was pulled into a hug that felt like home. “Don’t change the subject,” he told him. “According to the flight plan, you were on your way to L.A. to see a Darcy Lewis. She the dame in the picture?”

Steve knew what picture he was referring to. It was stuck to his refrigerator with a magnet shaped like his shield – him and Darcy at Rockefeller Center two years ago. She’d begged for him to take her ice skating, ignoring his protests that he’d never been with a casual wave of her hand: “How hard can it be?”

As it turns out, not hard at all for Steve Rogers. Darcy Lewis, however, spent more time on her ass then her feet, laughing hysterically every time she fell down, gladly taking Steve’s hands for a second, third, fifteenth attempt.

The photo was taken before they ventured on the ice, Darcy pressed to Steve's side as he held her phone in his hand; his long arms the perfect “selfie stick.” A copy of the “after” photo – Darcy’s cheeks red from the cold, her nose running slightly and tufts of hair spilling from her purple stocking cap -- was tucked inside his sketchbook.

“They put that in the flight plan?” Steve asked.

“Answer the question, punk.”

Steve smiled at the nickname. “She’s a friend.”

Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “A friend.”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head sadly. “Some things never change.”

* * *

Bucky had good days and bad days. On the good days, he remembered Steve, and could recall some of stories of their years together in Brooklyn or with the Howling Commandos during the war. On bad days, he was sullen, silent; his blue eyes darkened to a cloudy gray as he struggled to find a shred of the man Hydra had destroyed.

Steve took him out of the city, finding solace in the cabin he’d spent a few weeks at after he first woke, craving solitude so he could grieve in privacy as he tried to come to terms with his past and the future. He tried to give Bucky his space as he did the same, letting the man find his own way as he sat on the front porch to read or sketch. Sometimes he went for a run in the woods. Sometimes Bucky joined him. Sometimes those outings ended in the two men brawling, as Bucky begged for Steve to let him go, convinced he was too far gone to save. Steve accepted the beatings as his punishment, his penance for abandoning his friend, raising his arms only to keep the blows from causing permanent damage.

“What would your girlfriend say if she saw you like this?” Bucky spat. He glared angrily at the man crouched in front of him, who watched him with solemn eyes nearly swollen shut from his friend’s clenched fists.

Steve struggled to bring himself to his full height, bones creaking and muscles protesting at the effort. He turned and walked stiffly back to the direction of the cabin, breathing a little easier when he heard Bucky following him. Saying nothing, he ducked inside their temporary home, swiping his phone from where it was charging on the kitchen counter. He walked back out on to the porch, took a selfie and sent it to Darcy with the words _Productive therapy session_. When her reply came through a moment later, he tossed the phone to Bucky without reading it.

Darcy: _Boys will be boys._

“She’s just as crazy as you are,” Bucky declared with a shake of his head.

* * *

Months passed. Bucky’s bad days grew fewer, the time between them longer. Steve allowed himself to go on a few missions; ones he knew would not keep him away from the tower for long. He knew he had to give Bucky time to figure things out on his own, though Darcy’s jokes about mother henning Bucky to death were the final push he needed.

Darcy: _U can’t just live 4 Bucky. He can’t just live 4 U._

“Smart dame, that one,” Bucky remarked in-between innings of the baseball game he and Steve were watching half-heartedly, neither one caring much for the sport after learning that the Dodgers were now in L.A.

Sometimes Steve hated L.A. – for several reasons.

“Uh-huh.” Steve slouched further in the couch, tugging the Dodgers cap Darcy had sent him for his birthday lower on his head, hoping Bucky would take the hint and drop the subject. Instead, the dark-haired man smirked and took another sip of the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.

“You ever gonna talk about the night you hooked up?”

Steve started sputtering, choking on his own chug of beer (he still couldn’t get drunk, but he liked the taste). “Jesus, Bucky; how’d you know about that?”

“You just told me.”

Steve glared at the man. Bucky, for his part, watched him silently, channeling Natasha as he waited for him to speak. Steve didn’t know everything about Bucky and Natasha’s time together in the Red Room, part of him was sure he didn’t want to know, but there were moments like this when it struck him how alike the two were. “She’s my friend.”

“Since when do you sleep with your friends?”

“Since when is it your business who I sleep with?”

Bucky leaned back. “Fell for her bad, huh?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He could never lie to Bucky. “Yeah.”

“And she left?”

He finished his beer, wishing the dark amber would make him feel something. “She said it wasn’t our time, that I needed to focus on you and she wanted to get back to doing what she’d planned on before getting caught up in all this,” he finished with a look around the tower.

“God save me from self-sacrificing idiots,” Bucky muttered.

Steve got up and walked to the communal refrigerator to grab two more beers and the half-eaten bag of potato chips sitting on the granite countertop. He tossed one of the beers to Bucky before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth, hoping the delay tactic would buy him another minute.

“She wasn’t wrong,” he admitted. “I hate that she left, but I wasn’t in the right place to give her what she needed, not when I was focused on finding you, then helping you get better. But –“ he continued, stopping Bucky from saying whatever it was he was going to say. “It wasn’t all about you. Darcy came into my life when I needed someone like her, someone who was fun and light and so far away from all the shit I was dealing with, but Sam was right when he said that latching on to her those reasons was wrong.” He sighed as he recalled the angry, confused man he’d been. “I hated being here when I first woke up. She was the one bright spot in a future I couldn’t quite see.” He shook his head, remembering how pissed he was when Sam compared his feelings for Darcy to those he'd had for Peggy. He’d put both women on a pedestal, expected too much from them because of it. It wasn’t fair to either of them. “That’s too much to put on a person.”

Bucky had a flash of memory, a quick image of a red-headed girl who made him feel more like a man than an asset. He understood bad timing. “And now?”

“We’re friends,” Steve told him, the words sounding final for the first time in his head. He had to let her go. He couldn’t drown in the memory of her like he almost had with his memories of Peggy. “We’ll always be friends.”

* * *

Steve: _How’s LA?_

Darcy: _That’s all U gotta say? R U going to ask about the weather next?_

Steve: _Two days of rain here._

A week passed before Darcy replied. Their next texting conversation was even shorter. He missed a phone call because of a mission. She missed a Skype session because of work. Training kept him from catching up. School kept her from calling him out on it. She started seeing someone. His name was Marcus. He was twenty-eight years old, liked to surf and taught Darcy how to play pool. Steve overheard Clint talking about the new couple with Natasha, and made himself walk to his favorite café to finally ask out the waitress Bucky and Sam constantly teased him about. Darcy saw a picture of the couple in the photos Jane sent her of Tony’s surprise birthday party – the surprise being that he kept it relatively low-key, with close friends, less groupies and zero killer robots.

She slept with Marcus for the first time that night.

Steve spent the night at Beth’s apartment.

Neither one ever mentioned Marcus nor Beth to the other. If Darcy was telling a story and Marcus was in it, she called him a friend. Steve didn’t share any stories that involved Beth.

They went a month without talking to each other in any capacity.

The second month of silence was easier than the first.

Darcy graduated. Steve’s name on the flowers the team sent her was the first contact she had with him in nearly four months, though it didn’t count as she recognized Pepper’s handwriting. Marcus took her out to dinner to celebrate. He had a black velvet box tucked in the pocket of his navy sports coat. Darcy’s heart stopped when he pulled it out, starting again only when she realized it held a thin gold bracelet; not a ring.

They broke up that night. She didn’t keep the bracelet. The next morning, she called Pepper to tell her she changed her mind; she was interested in interviewing for the position as lobbyist for Stark Industries. She contacted Jane while she was packing, holding the phone away from her ear as the tiny astrophysicist screeched in excitement.

“You’re staying with me!” Jane decided. “Send me your flight information and I’ll pick you up at the airport. We’re going to have so much fun!”

It sounded perfect to Darcy.


	3. Chapter 3

_And after all the obstacles_

_It's good to see you now with someone else_

_And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends_

_After all that we've been through_

_I know we're cool_

Cool – Gwen Stefani

* * *

 

Darcy avoided the luggage carousels at LaGuardia, pulling her carryon behind her while hitching up her makeshift purse, briefcase, messenger bag and all around third limb higher on her shoulder, grateful that her procrastination habit meant most of her clothes were still at Jane’s. She’d planned to have them shipped to L.A. or her parents’ house in Illinois, but something more important (meaning fun) always took precedence, and it’s not like Jane was ever home long enough to realize half of the things in her apartment belonged to her former assistant.

If she got the job, it would make moving easier. 

Skirting around a family of tourists – New York isn’t Disney World people; the matching shirts are going to get you mugged, or at least severely taunted on Instagram – Darcy’s eyes scanned the crowd for her friend, her lips turning up in a mocking grin when she spotted the sign, the words SHORT STACK penned in purple ink.

“Don’t quit your day job,” she advised Clint, taking in the stick figure caricature she assumed was her, with curly hair, short legs and a speech bubble that proclaimed “New York City, bitches!”

He dropped the sign and pulled her in for a hug. “Be impressed I didn’t include your rack.”

“I am, dude,” she smiled into his purple T-shirt. “’Course, that means either Natasha or Thor was around when you made it.”

Clint snorted. “Thor. I wasn’t up for a lecture about looking beyond Lady Darcy’s ‘considerable assets’ to the warrior within.”

Darcy pulled away and smoothed her V-neck red T-shirt over her dark jeans, the cardigan she had belted around her waist in deference to the plane’s air conditioning, rolling her eyes at Clint when he tracked her movements. “Really?”

“Hey, we both know you’d be pissed if I didn’t.”

She said nothing because it was true. Clint had a way of ogling her that made it seem like a compliment. Of course, he threatened to kick the ass of any man who did so in a less-than-polite manner, the faint scar above his left eyebrow a testament to that fact.

New Mexico dive bars loved their brawls. Who knew?

He took her bag, grabbed her hand and led her out of the crowded airport to the white Audi R8 V10 Spyder parked along the curb. He shoved a few crumpled bills in the hands of the kid he talked into keeping an eye on it and opened the passenger door, tossing Darcy’s bags in the back seat.

“Does Tony know you took his car?”

“Nope,” Clint winked as he slid into the driver’s seat with a deep sigh. “He doesn’t know what end is up these days. Steve and Barnes brought back a shit ton of Hydra intel from their last raid and he’s been a kid in a fucking candy store since.”

“Is that why Jane didn’t pick me up?”

Clint pulled onto the expressway with the smooth grace Darcy could only hope to emulate. “I volunteered.”

“You volunteered? Dude, I know Tony’s garage is car porn, but even that’s asking a lot for a ride to Williamsburg.”

Clint wove the car between two semis, one eye a constant on the rearview mirror; a habit that was tough to break after years with SHIELD. “Why would we go to Williamsburg?”

“That’s where we live, or where we used to live. Did Jane get a new apartment? ‘Bout damn time. That place was crowded with just the two of us. You add Thor to the mix and it was packed tighter than the proverbial sardines in a can.”

Clint snorted. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She moved into the tower about a year ago. Thor didn’t like the idea of her being alone when he was off planet, not that she ever slept there anyway. I think it was more her habit of using the contamination showers as her personal bathroom that got Tony on board.” He started laughing, recalling Jane’s surprise when she’d learned she had a suite at the tower – nearly a week after the fact. He glanced over at Darcy, his smile dropping at her expression. “Hey,” he placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. “You going to be OK with this?”

Darcy forced herself to be cool. It wasn’t like she expected to go the whole week without seeing Steve. She wanted to see him. But she also wanted to build up to it, wait until she was feeling a bit more confident, a bit more herself, before they faced each other. “Yeah,” she winced at her no-so-confident squeak. She took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s cool. Easier to catch up with everyone if we’re all in the same place, right?”

“He misses you.”

She scoffed and looked out the window, not wanting Clint to see how his words affected her. “He has a funny way of showing it,” she muttered. 

Clint wasn’t sure what to say to that. When Darcy confessed during a drunken phone call that she slept with Steve before she left, he wasn’t surprised. They played the whole “We’re just friends” card with more insistence than Banner and Tasha, but he saw the way they looked at each other when they thought the other wasn’t paying attention, looks that may have resulted in a friendly wager with Tony, Sam and Tasha. He was ready to cash in.

“If you aren’t comfortable, I can take you to a hotel,” he offered. “SI will spring for something nice.”

She ignored that voice that told her to jump on his proposal. She was Darcy Fucking Lewis. She didn’t run and hide. She could do this. “Nah, it’s cool. It’s not like he’s my ex or anything.”

“But you did hook up.”

Her eyes narrowed at Clint’s casual mention of something she thought they agreed to never mention again. “I’ve got to stop calling you when I’m drunk.”

“But then I’d never hear from you.”

She punched him in the arm, appreciating his exaggerated wince at the gesture. “Bite me, bird brain.”

“Just tell me where, Short Stack.”

_"I think Clint needs to get laid,” Darcy declared, partly because it was true and partly to see_

_Steve wince at her choice of words. No, he wasn’t the innocent the media portrayed him to be, but he was raised in a time when the majority of Darcy’s vocabulary was not uttered by women. It was cheap entertainment._

_“You volunteering?” His tone was casual as he handed her the politics section of The New York T_ _imes, the two of them lingering over coffee and pastries at their favorite café. It was her turn to choose their weekly outing, hence their casual attire of jeans and non-descript T-shirts – perfect for attending a baseball game at Yankee Stadium where she planned to eat her weight in hot dogs and yell at the umpires while Steve rooted for anyone who wasn’t a Yankee._

_Darcy laughed at the idea of her and Clint. “Please. It’d be like doing my brother.”_

_Steve turned to the back of the sports section. “The latest Page Six poll had him edging out Tony for sexiest Avenger.”_

_“Worried he’ll catch up to you?”_

_There’s the blush. He didn’t do it nearly as much as he used to. She had to try harder these days. Captain America was holding steady at No. 2 in the tabloid’s Avengers poll behind Black Widow. Darcy considered changing her daily vote to see Steve’s reaction to claiming the top spot, but then she’d catch a glimpse of Nat in action. That woman deserved to rule the world._

Darcy blinked as the light turn greened and Clint drove through the intersection. The memory had slapped her in the face, leaping to the forefront of her mind the second her eyes focused on what she and Steve had called their place. Shit. He had no ties to her places in L.A. Here, everything was colored by memories of him. Why the hell did she take it upon herself to share her favorite places with Steve Rogers?

Because he’s your best friend, her stupid voice of reason whispered in her head.

Was. Was her best friend. If he was still her best friend, he would have picked up the damn phone sometime in the last five months.

You could have called him, the voice of reason persisted. It sounded suspiciously like Natasha, which made it hard to ignore.

“You’ve got your angry eyes on,” Clint remarked as he pulled into the garage at Avengers Tower. “You sure you can handle this?”

Darcy shifted in the passenger seat so she was facing Clint head on. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “Is he happy?”

She left because he needed to figure things out without her getting in his way. Yes, finding Bucky was a large part of it, but Steve was a man who had lived for others since the day Erskine strapped him to the table. She understood that he felt obligated to give something back because of the amazing gift he’d received, but there’s helping others and being a fucking martyr. Steve Rogers deserved to have a life just like everyone else. He deserved the chance to find out what he wanted, what made him happy. She wouldn’t influence his decision. He’d had enough people doing that for him already. 

Clint considered the question carefully before answering. Yeah, Steve was glad to have Barnes back, to be training new teammates under his own charge and not SHIELD’s. He didn’t bring Beth to the tower much, saying she wasn’t exactly comfortable around everyone, but when he spoke of her, it was usually with a smile – maybe not the same smile he’d had around Darcy, but it was a hell of an improvement over how he moped around after she left. “Yeah,” he decided. “He’s happy.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wishing briefly that she was a better person who hadn’t hoped, for just a second, that he was miserable. “Right. OK. If he’s happy, I’m happy.”

And dammit, she expected big points in the karma department for saying that and kind of meaning it, too. The look Clint gave her made it obvious he wasn’t buying it, but he wisely (thankfully) said nothing as they made their way from the garage to the elevator. 

* * *

 

Working in the tower as Jane’s lab assistant had taught Darcy three things:

  1. When Tony was quiet for long periods of time, expect the worse.
  2. If you leave your leftovers in the communal refrigerator, it’s your own damn fault if they get eaten.
  3. It is impossible to sneak up on anyone. Even if it was possible, it’s definitely not a good idea because assassins, gods, and super soldiers.



Darcy forced herself to remember that as she and Clint walked off the elevator and into the

Avengers’ living room, where Sam was sitting on the oversized coffee table next to a dark-haired man that had to be the Winter Soldier, hooting as Mario crossed the finish line before Bowser.

“Dude, you’re celebrating first place in Moo Moo Meadows,” Darcy scoffed. “Talk to me when you do the same on Rainbow Road.”

Sam tossed the remote on the plush area rug before jumping over the other man’s legs. “Damn girl,” he grinned before picking her up and swinging her in a wide circle, going faster when she shrieked and tried to wiggle out of his hold. Being one of the non-supers in a freaking tower full of superheroes sucked sometimes. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?” The second he asked the question, he answered it. “Jane.”

“Jane,” Darcy laughed. She loved her friend, she really did, but honestly the woman had a one track science mind. Two-track, if Thor was around.

“Are you visiting? Moving back here?”

“God, were you always this chatty?” Darcy tugged her cardigan off and tossed it over the leather sofa. “Give a girl a second to breathe. Oh, and remember your manners, Sam; introduce me to the new guy.”

Sam caught Clint’s eye and chuckled, the two of them having long agreed that if James Barnes and Darcy Lewis were ever in the same room together, good things (meaning crazy things) would follow. “Right,” he took Darcy’s hand and pulled her over to Bucky, who was standing by the coffee table with an unreadable look on his face. Sam knew that was his default expression when faced with a new situation and pressed on, trusting Darcy to navigate the introduction as she saw fit. “Darcy Lewis, James Barnes.”

Darcy cocked her head to the side as she studied the man she knew nothing and everything about. He was no longer the clean-cut (and, let’s face it, arrogant) soldier of the history books and museum exhibits, but he’d also lost that psychotic killer look from the Washington, D.C. surveillance photos she might have asked JARVIS to show her. His hair was longish, pulled back from his face in a stubby ponytail, but the five-o-clock shadow (at one in the afternoon) worked for him. He wasn’t quite as tall as Steve, but from the way his dark jeans and hunter green Henley hugged his body, it was obvious he was every bit as built as his friend. Her eyes skimmed over him, head to toe and back up again, not once lingering on his prosthetic arm. She met his curious gaze head-on, feeling oddly triumphant when he blinked first.

Darcy ignored the hand Bucky held out, choosing to press herself close for a hug instead. Bucky stiffened at her touch and she worried, for just a second, that maybe grabbing a former assassin wasn’t the best idea, but if he was anything like Steve, he craved touch. For so long, the only physical contact Steve had had after waking up was either clinical or in battle. He, too, didn’t know how to react to Darcy’s casual habit of touching those around her, but then he got used to it, siding up to her anytime they were in the same room, even if it was just to stand by each other, their arms grazing one another. When she felt Bucky relax into her hold, one arm (not the metal one, which she assumed meant he didn’t want to scare her, poor thing) coming up to her shoulder to almost (but not quite) hug her back, she gave herself a mental high five.

“So what are you going by these days?” she asked as she pulled away, deliberately letting her hands trail down his arms – both arms – before she took a step back. “Bucky? James? Barnes? Jimmy?”

He rolled his eyes at Jimmy. “I prefer Bucky or James.”

“Noted.”

“So Darce,” Sam put his arm around her shoulder. “How long are you here? Why are you here? What are you doing tonight? I’m thinking karaoke!”

Darcy groaned. “Still? Dude, you have got to get a new hobby!”

“Hey, if you want our score to stay where it is, you know – with me winning – so be it.” He tapped a finger on her noise, grinning when she slapped his hand away. “You just have to declare me the winner.”

Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s like that, huh?”

He mimicked her stance, his dark eyes practically twinkling in delight. “It’s like that.”

“Fine. We leave at eight. Be prepared to feel very bad about yourself!” With that, she grabbed her bag, tugged her carryon out of Clint’s grasp, and stomped to the elevator, asking JARVIS to direct her to Jane’s apartment, and then to tell the scientist to get her ass out of the lab because she was hungry and hadn’t had a decent slice of pizza in two years.

“So that’s Darcy,” Bucky remarked as the elevator doors slid shut.

“That’s Darcy,” Clint and Sam told him.

“Huh. Stevie always did go for brunettes.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Illusion never changed_

_Into something real_

_I'm wide awake and I can see_

_The perfect sky is torn_

_You're a little late, I'm already torn_

Torn – Natalie Imbruglia 

* * *

Steve stuffed his hands in his back pockets. Beth looked at him expectantly. She was waiting for him to say something, to do something. He had no idea what.

When Steve first asked Beth out, part of it was because he was upset that Darcy had apparently moved on (even though Natasha pointed out it was impossible for someone to move on from a non-existent relationship). He wasn’t proud of that, but justified his actions by telling himself he _did_ like Beth. She treated him like a normal guy despite their so-not-ordinary introduction. Why shouldn’t he try a normal guy thing and ask a lady out to dinner?

Her face had lit up after he finally worked up the nerve (it didn’t help that Bucky and Sam casually strolled into the café twenty minutes after he did, grabbing seats as a table not in Beth’s section, but positioned so that Bucky could see everything that happened) and they went out the following night. If he thought he was nervous asking her out, that was nothing compared to the hours leading up to dinner. He’d wanted to call Darcy and ask her advice. No, he wanted to call Darcy period. But he didn’t. Not because he knew doing so was a stupid move (he wasn’t that big of an idiot when it came to women, Bucky), but because it had been so long since they last spoke – too long to call and pretend that weeks of silence had passed. He wasn’t ready to admit why he stopped calling. That and he worried she’d bring up Marcus. He didn’t want to hear about Marcus. Not from her. That made it real. He heard through the grapevine (Thor, who didn’t have a quiet voice) that he was a good guy. Great. She deserved nothing less, but that didn’t mean he had to like him, though part of him wondered of Darcy would like Beth.

“God,” Bucky growled. “You’re more fucked up than I am.”

Thanks to all of their conversations at the café, Steve knew Beth had a fear of motorcycles. Tony offered to lend him a car (an offer that made Clint shout in protest – he was never allowed to drive Tony’s cars), but Steve turned him down, instead choosing a restaurant within walking distance of her apartment. They talked about nothing on the way there – Darcy always said he was awesome at small talk, thanks to his years working the PR machine – and by the time their entrees arrived, the last of his first date jitters had flown away. He had a good time. Beth was nice, sweet, and never once brought up Captain America. She had to work the next day, but he stopped by during her break to say hello and she asked him to go to the movies with her that night. A few days after that, he took her to a new exhibit opening at the Met. Everything was easy, low pressure. Beth was coming off of a two-year relationship and he had never really had one before, so when she said she wanted to keep things simple, he readily agreed.

The first time he had to cancel a date because of work, she’d laughed and made a joke about the downfall of dating a superhero. The second time he canceled, he wasn’t in a position to notify her beforehand. (It was a black ops mission that fell apart quickly, resulting in radio silence while the team regrouped.) He returned to New York City with three cracked ribs that ended up being his ticket out of the doghouse when he showed up at Beth’s apartment. Yeah, he was walking, but he still looked like hell.

“Lesson learned,” Bath smiled as she helped Steve to her sofa, tucking a few throw pillows behind his back. “No advance plans. We’ll be a spur-of-the-moment couple.”

That worked for the first few months, but from the way Beth spoke during their lunch date and the way she was looking at him now, he got the sense that spontaneous dates weren’t as exciting as they first told themselves they were. Add the dangerous element that was his job, and it was understandable why a woman would hesitate to get further involved, but what could he do about it? He never once lied to her about who he was and what he did, and it wasn’t like he was in the position to quit any time soon. Hydra was still out there – not that he could tell Beth that.

Steve sighed. When did it get so hard?

“How was lunch?”

Steve nudged Bucky’s feet off the couch – “Were you raised in a barn, Buck?” – and fell on it with absolutely zero grace. He had no idea how to answer Sam’s question. Lunch itself was fine. He had three Paninis and part of Beth’s. The walk around Central Park was nice. New York City was beautiful this time of year. But then Beth said “I think we should talk” and even he knew that was never good.

She asked him where he thought things were going. His instinct was to run away. Since when did he run away from anything?

“It didn’t quite make up for missing our last three dates.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He had a headache, he was a hungry again and there was a familiar scent in the room that he couldn’t quite place, and it was driving him crazy. “I don’t think Captain American can date,” he concluded.

“What about Steve Rogers?” Sam asked.

“He pretty much sucks at it, too.”

Bucky snorted and nudged Steve in the arm. “Maybe it’s the girl.”

“Not this again,” Steve groaned.

“Not what again?” Sam asked as he looked between the two super soldiers sprawled on the couch. Their non-verbal communication skills weren’t as subtle as Clint and Natasha, but they were still advanced enough that he figured out what they were “talking” only about half the time.

“Darcy,” Bucky told him.

“Ah.”

“Don’t ‘ah’ him, Sam; it’ll only encourage him,” Steve grumbled as he pushed himself off the couch and wandered to the refrigerator. “And why are you so fixated on her? You’ve never met her. Everything you know about her are from stories you’ve heard.” He took out a can of soda and popped the tab, draining half the contents.

“Yeah, I don’t know her, but I do know you,” Bucky said as he got up to stretch, catching Sam’s eye in the process. The other man took a sudden interest in his phone. “From the way you talk about her, she’s perfect for you. The five-minute conversation I had with her earlier was all the confirmation I needed.”

Steve choked on his soda. “Conversation? What conversation? Did she call? Is she OK?”

Bucky’s face was innocent. “She looked better than OK to me, but like you said, I don't know her.” He looked over at Sam, ignoring the man’s shaking of his head. “You know her, Sam. She look good to you?”

Sam sometimes regretted giving up his apartment in Washington, D.C. to train as a full-time

Avenger. Now was one of those times. Clint and Bucky may get their kicks by rattling the team and it was second nature to Tony, but he preferred peaceful cohabitation – especially when his cohabitants were superheroes. That being said, he liked Darcy. He missed Darcy. Steve certainly was a lot more fun to be around before she left. “She looked great,” he said diplomatically.

“She’s here?” Steve crushed the soda can in his hand. “In New York? In the Tower?”

“Yes to the first question, not right now to the second,” Bucky said before he left the room.

“Why?” Steve turned to Sam. “Why is she here?”

Sam tucked his phone in his back pocket, his plan to follow Bucky’s exit delayed. “You know, she didn’t say. Clint picked her up from the airport. Ask him.” He made a mental note to buy Clint a beer at the bar to make up for throwing him under the bus.

Steve moved to follow Sam out of the living room, but then his eyes fell on something on the floor behind the sofa. He picked it up. Darcy’s cardigan -- or one of her cardigans. She had a serious knitwear fetish.

_“It’s July, Darce.”_

_“Very good, Cap,” Darcy pulled open the top left-hand drawer of her desk and withdrew a pile of multicolored star stickers. Pulling off a red one, she stuck it to the back of his hand. “Here’s your prize.”_

_Steve smiled at the sticker. Darcy had purchased a Good Rewards Chart at a teacher’s supply store, setting it up in Jane’s lab in effort to help control the brainiacs (namely Tony). Each scientist’s name was printed in the chart in careful block letters and the individuals received a star for normally mundane tasks, like taking regular breaks, sleeping seven hours straight or eating a complete meal. The person with the most stars at the end of the week got to request the Monday morning pastries. Anyone who went a week without blowing something up received a bonus sticker (they were Avenger shaped) that equaled a treat on the next coffee run. Tony had initially mocked the system, but then Bruce starting racking up the awards (even Jane earned a couple) and his competitive drive kicked in._

_“Thank you,” he told her, “but that doesn’t explain the sweater and hat in the middle of summer.”_

_“Dr. Richards and Johnny Storm are stopping by this afternoon.” Darcy made a face. “There’s not enough layers in the world to make me feel clothed when he looks at me.”_

_“Richards?”_

_“Storm.”_

_Now it was Steve’s turn to make a face. He hated that kid. He was so damn cocky. He loved playing for the crowd. The last time the Avengers and the Fantastic Four worked together, the fight took twice as long because Johnny Storm had to make things look good for the cameras._

_Steve still didn’t feel bad for sending that motorcycle through the TV station’s remote truck, though he did make sure it was empty first._

_“Do you want me to stick around and glare disapprovingly at the Human Torch?”_

_Darcy fluttered her eyelashes. “My hero,” she said in a terrible impression of a southern belle._

The sweater smelled like Darcy; a mixture of coffee, vanilla and citrus. Too much time had passed since he last scented that combination. It had remained on his pillow for nearly a week after she left. It drove him crazy, but every time he went to strip the sheets, something stopped him. He slumped against the sofa. She was back. Why? For how long? Was it permanent? Was she single? Was _he_ single? Even if she was, if he was, would it mean anything?

“You heard, huh?”

Steve looked up, Darcy’s sweater still clutched in his hands. “A heads up would have been nice.”

Clint shrugged and made his way to the refrigerator, pulling out a box of leftover pizza. “Didn’t know myself until yesterday,” he said around a mouthful of pepperoni and pineapple. “Wasn’t sure she’d be up for staying here once she knew Foster moved in, so I kept my mouth shut.”

Steve folded the sweater and placed it on the arm of the couch. “You do realize we’re friends, right? That’s all.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Cap.” Clint removed a jug of iced tea and drank straight from the container.

Steve heaved a heavy sigh as he wandered to the kitchen, hooking an ankle around the leg of one of the stools before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. He, too, fished a piece of pizza out of the box, but shook his head with a grimace when Clint held up the ice tea. “I fucked things up, didn’t I?”

Clint gave a half-hearted shrug. “Yeah, probably, but knowing Darcy, she’s not completely innocent. Blame aside, you can still fix it. I mean, Christ, you two were almost as tight as me and

Tasha, and Lord knows I’ve annoyed the hell out of her over the years.”

“Yeah, but when you do, she kicks your ass and all is well,” Steve said with a half-hearted grin. “Not really an option for me and Darcy.”

“So talk. Chicks dig that.”

Steve picked the pineapple off his second piece of pizza. Talk. If it were that simple, they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. “How’s she doing?” he asked. “I mean, is she OK? Does she seem OK?”

Clint was not going to get involved. He learned his lesson the first and only time he tried to talk to Bruce about Tasha and nearly triggered a Hulk out, not to mention Natasha’s excessive use of force during their next sparring session. But he decided to take pity on the guy. It should be against the law to see Captain America so down. “She’s the same firecracker she’s always been, but don’t take my word for it. We’re going out tonight. Karaoke.”

“Oh God,” Steve groaned.

“See? Told you she was the same!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update for the day; enjoy!

_Put your hands, put your hands,_

_Inside my face and see that it's just you._

_But it's bad and it's mad and it's making me sad,_

_Because I can't be with you._

I Can’t Be With You – The Cranberries

* * *

“What’s karaoke?” 

“Christ on a cracker!” Darcy screeched, one hand clutching her chest in an attempt to calm her rapidly beating heart while the other automatically smacked Bucky in the chest. “Didn’t anyone tell you the first rule of fight club? You don’t sneak up on people who can hurt you!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You gonna hurt me, doll?”

She crossed her arms. God save her from cocky octogenarians. “I tased a god.” 

He leaned against the wall, completely at ease. He didn’t understand it. He was never this comfortable around new people. There were times he still wasn’t this comfortable around _Steve_ and the man was practically his brother. “I know. Thor loves to talk.”

“And I’ve trained with Natasha.”

Bucky’s eyes trailed down her figure and up again. It was almost seven, but she was ready for the night, having caught up with Jane over pizza (yeah, she grew up close to Chicago, home of the deep dish, but there was something about New York pizza that couldn’t be beat) and crashed for an hour. Avenger Karaoke nights were always epic. Her first Avenger Karaoke night in more than two years promised to be amazing! “That I didn’t know, but Natalia is not the most talkative person.”

“I think that’s why she did it. She was looking for a way to shut me up,” Darcy confessed as she continued down the hallway, her black heeled boots in hand. Not knowing what Sam would throw at her, she decided to go for comfortable, donning skinny black jeans, and a red and black plaid shirt. A wide belt around her waist emphasized her curves, which she was happy to report didn’t fall victim to grad school dining habits, thanks to her thrice weekly krav maga classes. What can she say? Natasha’s lessons stuck with her. She’d also found a shooting range, which she visited when the stress got to be too much. She’d never have Clint’s aptitude with a gun (don’t get her started on her disastrous archery lessons), but she was competent and that was enough to have her feeling as safe as she could as a woman living on her own in L.A. – not that she owned a gun.

_“What’s the point of knowing how to shoot then?” Clint asked._

_“Dude. You were the one who insisted.” She told him, practically yelling into her phone, which was on speaker as she rushed around her tiny studio apartment, stuffing papers in her messenger bag. She had twenty minutes to get to class. Clint was somewhere he couldn’t tell her and was completely unaware of the time difference when he called to say hi._

_(That was a lie. He knew exactly what time it was in California. He just liked messing with her.)_

“Little did Nat know, I can keep a conversation going even when gasping for breath,” Darcy said with a wink as she and Bucky walked down the staircase from the Avengers’ living quarters to the communal floor.

“Is that how you got to Steve?” Bucky asked. “Yammered at him ‘til he gave in?" 

Darcy wondered how long it would take for Bucky to bring up the blond and cut elephant in the room. She wanted to blow him off, make and joke and change the subject, but while avoidance tendencies were semi-successful with Jane, she doubted a sniper would fall for the “Look! Science!” routine. “How much has he told you about his life when he first got back?”

Bucky shrugged and followed Darcy to the living room, joining her on the couch as she pulled on her boots. “Not much. We talk about how different things are and that kind of stuff, but he hasn’t delved into feelings and shit. He’s still beating himself up about what happened to me. He feels guilty about that and thinks nothing he’s gone through compares.”

“Sounds about right,” Darcy told him. “I’m not going to give you the dirty details because I wasn’t around for the first few months, but he was lonely, sad – he missed you tons - and a little angry. I think the team mellowed some of that out, he had a purpose, but even then he was more

Captain America than Steve Rogers.” Darcy dug through her purse and pulled out a pack of gum, offering it to Bucky before taking a piece for herself. “I don’t know. Cap is cool, I guess, but I liked him better when he’d let parts of Steve out to play. First time we really talked, it was after he did Text Speak 101 with Tony." She started laughing, remembering the scene she walked in on. "Dude, he was worse than my grandmother, trying to figure out all the acronyms and autocorrect. I thought Tony was going to lose it, but every time he snapped, Steve kind of curled into himself and he’d take a deep breath and start over. Pepper took pity on them and interrupted after about twenty minutes. When they left, Steve looked over at me and winked. I didn’t even know he knew I was there!"

Bucky chuckled. Steve had the innocent act down to a T. It came in handy during their youth.

“People never expect Steve to be a smartass.”

“Smartass? He’s a smug little shit. I loved it!” Darcy leaned back on the couch. She missed the tower’s luxuries. Her hand-me-down futon had nothing on Tony's furniture. “We managed to keep that up for a few months before Tony realized Steve had no trouble with modern tech on missions.”

“And then?” Bucky asked.

“Then what?” Darcy shrugged. “We were friends. He was the perfect person to explore the city with, and he had no problem asking me questions about pop culture references and such because he knew I wouldn’t laugh. Before they went under, SHIELD got him all caught up on military history and modernized weaponry; I handled the rest, starting with his list.” She glanced over.

“Does he still have it?”

Bucky knew what she was talking about; the little notebook Steve always kept on his person.

He’d make a note every time someone referenced something he didn’t understand. “He’s on his third one.”

“Good,” Darcy ignored the little jab to her heart at his words. They'd bonded over his list.

Every time he crossed something off, it was like he took one more step in accepting his future.

OK, maybe that’s a tad overdramatic, but she saw how his face lit up whenever he understand some pop culture reference. “Are you keeping one, too?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to shrug. “I’m cribbing off Steve’s.”

Darcy snorted. “That’s why you know nothing about karaoke. JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“Will you pull up _Pitch Perfect_ , please and thank you?”

“Of course,” the AI replied as a movie appeared on the extra-large television screen. Darcy muted the volume and turned to Bucky, pulling her legs up so she was sitting cross-legged on the couch.

“Kay, so if you haven’t seen this movie, you have to. It’s about a Capella groups in college and it’s awesome!”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Dude, don’t mock what you don’t understand.” Darcy picked up the remote and fast-forwarded through the movie’s opening scenes. “Karaoke is singing to instrumental music with your voice replacing the artist. You choose your track, the bar queues it up and you perform. This movie changed all that, at least for us.”

Darcy stopped at the riff off scene. She was mostly silent as she watched, though she mouthed along with dialogue and sang the songs under her breath. “Kay,” she said as Becca started rapping, “so when Sam and I watched this movie, we decided to try it at a karaoke bar. We’d pick a category and everyone had to perform songs in that category. Because games are only fun with there’s a definite winner, we made it a competition with the victor being whoever got the most applause for their performance.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Bragging rights,” Darcy said as she settled to watch the rest of the movie. “And free booze.”

Bucky considered that reason enough to play. “And Sam’s winning?”

“Technically, yes," she muttered, still pissed at the injustice of it all. "He got lucky the last time we went out because there was a bachelorette party happening at the same time. There’s no way I could compete with that!”

* * *

Steve guided his motorcycle into his parking space in the tower’s underground garage and killed the motor, the ride having done nothing to settle his nerves since learning Darcy was back. He already tried working out his anxiety on a punching bag. He'd spent an hour in the gym before Natasha’s knowing look got to him. A barely raised eyebrow said so much on that woman.

She was back. He had a hard time wrapping his head around it. Even after Darcy left, there was a part of him that always assumed she’d return. She loved New York. She loved her friends. He thought she loved her job, but apparently not. Maybe if he was wrong about that, he was wrong about everything else. Still, even without a job to come back to, he thought she would, assumed that once he had Bucky back and he was well that he and Darcy would pick up where they left off. God, he must be hanging around Tony more than he realized if his ego was that big.

He swung off the bike and walked to the elevator, his keys in his hand. The team was doing karaoke tonight. The last time Steve accompanied everyone to karaoke night, Darcy had jumped around the bar in a rousing rendition of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ , but it was not enough to drown out the whistles and catcalls Sam received when he performed _Rock Your Body_.

_“This isn’t fair,” Darcy slumped in the booth, her lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout._

_“You were the one who said ‘Forget the categories; let’s choose a song based on the audience and see what happens.'” Steve's reminder earned him a sharp jab to his side._

_“’Cause I was counting on the Girl Power mentality to override the Justin Timberlake effect!”_

_Darcy finished her beer and snagged Steve’s. “Look at him,” she gestured to where Sam was dancing with a woman wearing a plastic tiara and pink feather boa, the words Bride-To-Be scrawled in gold letters on the white satin sash she was whipping around her head. “That woman is getting married soon! Does he have no shame?”_

_“Didn’t you come back from your friend Karen’s bachelorette party with a purse full of suckers shaped like penises?” Clint asked._

_Steve’s eyes widened. That was new information. He looked at Darcy. She was glaring at Clint._

_“You suck,” she told him._

_“Pretty sure that’s what the suckers were for.”_

Steve stepped off the elevator, his traitorous mind on the one time Darcy showed him she knew exactly what those suckers were for, when Bucky’s laughter stopped him in his tracks. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Bucky laugh since he got back. He did, but not like this: carefree and light.

He sounded like … he sounded like Bucky. From before.

“Come on doll, that didn’t happen!”

“I’m serious! I bet JARVIS still has video! J-Man?”

The AI hesitated. “My apologies, Miss Lewis, but Sir erased your Future Blackmail collection from my system when you left.”

“What?” Darcy cried. “And you let him? I thought we were bros!”

“If it helps, I believe he did so out of frustration that you weren’t around.”

Steve watched as Darcy considered JARVIS’ explanation. “Eh, kind of,” she said before turning back to Bucky, their dark heads bent together as she pulled up something on the TV screen. Oh no; she was showing him cat videos. He once lost an entire day (and most of the night) watching cat videos with Darcy – after she asked him for five minutes of his time; no more, no less.

“She’s got you in her clutches, Buck,” Steve said as he walked into the living room. “There’s no escaping now.” Darcy’s head whipped around as the two of them laid eyes on each other. God, she was beautiful. Her dark hair was brushed away from her face in loose curls and her full lips were painted a familiar shade of red. He itched to touch, to taste. He fisted his hand tighter around his keys, not feeling the sharp metal dig into his palm. “Hey, stranger.”

He saw a myriad of emotions play across her face: apprehension, joy, uncertainty. He made himself stay still, to let Darcy make the first move, for her to decide where they stood. He’d follow her lead.

* * *

 

Awkward. It was a feeling Darcy, unfortunately, was all too familiar with, but it was never something she expected to feel around Steve. Or maybe it was nerves. Her stomach was jumping around like it did her first day as a TA or that one time she and Steve rode The Cyclone at Coney Island. She stared at him, his face so familiar and so different at the same time. His hair was mussed, like he had run his fingers through it in an attempt to comb it neat. He must have been riding his bike. He did that when he needed to get away, when he was feeling overwhelmed about something and had to clear his head. Was he as messed up over seeing her as she was seeing him?

Fuck that.

“Steve!”

She practically leapt over the couch, the tip of her boot catching hold on the corner, but he was there, pulling her in his arms before she fell. God, she missed his hugs. How could she go so long without them? His hugs were solid and comforting, sweet and strong. They were completely, 100 percent natural, with no artificial flavors or coloring. They were simply Steve.

“Darcy.” His voice was rough as he tightened his arms around her, his grip so strong that, for a moment, she worried she’d stop breathing. She was totally OK with that. “Missed you.”

She tried to grip his leather jacket, her hands faltering on the smooth leather. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of soap and aftershave. She talked JARVIS into letting her sneak into his room before she left just so she could steal one of his grandpa-like shirts. She wanted to have Steve's scent with her in California; at least for a little bit.

“I missed you, too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut the lyrics way down in this chapter. Hopefully that's enough to appease whoever reported this story for copyright violation. I couldn't delete them altogether; they're at a karaoke bar!

_What hurts the most was being so close_

_And havin' so much to say_

_And watchin' you walk away_

What Hurts the Most – Rascal Flatts

* * *

He forgot to be nervous.

She forgot she was kind of mad at him.

He missed her laugh.

She missed his mischievous smile.

They sat on the sofa, their bodies turned toward each other. Steve had one arm resting on the back of the couch and his fingers absently played with the ends of her hair. Darcy was perched on her knees, one hand resting on Steve’s thigh to maintain her balance as they entertained Bucky with story after story. They’d glance over at where Bucky was sprawled in an armchair, having graciously given up the couch for the two people who’d hugged each other much longer than “just friends” (Steve pointedly ignored his friend’s knowing look as he led Darcy around the sofa), but their eyes were mostly for each other as their words weaved in and around one another.

They argued about the details, Steve reeling Darcy in when her exaggerations got out of hand. She’d roll her eyes, call him “Gramps,” and begin again. If Steve forgot to mention something, Darcy interrupted, waving her hands to cut off Steve’s protest.

“I was getting there!”

“Yeah, but I tell it better.”

“Just because you’re louder doesn’t mean you’re a better storyteller, Darce. You weren’t even there! You’re repeating the story I told you!”

“I still tell it better!”

Natasha entered the room on silent feet and perched on the side of Bucky’s chair.

“I want in on the bet.” Bucky pitched his voice low so Steve wouldn’t hear.

Natasha raised a brow. “What makes you think there’s a bet?”

“There’s always a bet.”

Her smile was smug. “I’ll send you the details.”

“Good.” He made a mental note to talk to Barton about raising his stake for Natalia and Banner. He’d taught her to move faster than that. It was embarrassing.

Darcy couldn’t get over how easy it was, how they were able to slip back into their roles, to be as they always were as if no time had passed. She wanted to hug him again. Forever. Always. The joy at talking to him, seeing him, was too great to describe. Why? Why did she stay away from him? Why did she let her stupid pride keep her from her best friend in the entire world? He’s Steve. He’s her Steve. OK, fine, technically he was Beth’s Steve, but bros before hos, or something less insulting to her gender. He was her best friend. It was totally childish of her to let jealousy keep her from reaching out when it’s so obvious now how much she’d missed him.

“Hey!” Sam cheered as he entered the room, taking a quick mental count of those who were there and who still needed to show. If his gaze lingered on Steve and Darcy for a second longer than necessary, no one called him on it (even though they all saw; damn superheroes). “I don’t know about you, Darce, but I’m feeling good tonight!” He ruffled the top of her head, ducking out of reach when she went to hit him. “Are you sure you want to humiliate yourself your first night back?”

Darcy snorted and rearranged herself on the sofa until she was pressed against Steve’s side. “Please. I spent the last two years at bars that featured up-and-comers. You’re going down!”

The smack talk continued, the two of them trading insults, their voices going up a level after Clint entered the room. Steve watched them all, feeling something slide into place that he hadn’t realized was missing. It was Darcy. She was this bright spot who brought a level of absurdity to a group of people who sorely needed it. The immediate months following his “rebirth” weren’t any he liked to dwell on, but he remembered the loneliness, the hours of no one but his own company.

Even when Nick Fury assembled the team, they were together in name only. More missions didn’t change that. Everyone taking residence in the tower didn’t change that.

Darcy did.

She helped Clint find his focus after Loki made him doubt himself. She got Natasha to see that she was a person worthy of friendship. She forced Bruce beyond his protective boundaries and had a calming effect on Tony. She helped Thor navigate Midgard life and welcomed Sam into the fold like a proud mother eager to show off her children. And for him … He was no longer lonely because of her. She was his first true friend in this new world. He would forever and always be grateful.

“It’s like walking into the past,” Tony announced as he entered the living room, Armani sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose as he eyed the couple on the couch. “Lewis.”

“Stark.”

“I’m not sure I should allow you in my tower,” he told her. “You left with only one week’s notice.”

“For the millionth time: I. Didn’t. Work. For. You.” Darcy spoke slowly, deliberately, annunciating each word as an individual sentence. “I worked for Jane.”

Tony sniffed, brushing a piece of non-existent lint from his stone gray suit jacket. “My workspace has more toys.”

“She can rip a hole in the universe.”

“She starts fires,” he retorted.

“You start fires!”

Steve’s phone chimed before Tony could voice a comeback. With an apologetic smile, Steve shifted away to pull the phone from his pocket. Beth’s name was illuminated on the screen. He got up and walked into the kitchen before he answered the call. Darcy watched him go.

That was that.

* * *

“He could be breaking up with her!”

Darcy shook her head. She was entirely too sober to believe Jane’s excuses.

“I’m just saying, aside from Tony’s birthday, that woman has never stepped foot in the tower,”

Jane continued, scrubbing her hands furiously at the bathroom sink, the grimace on her face so fierce that the woman next to her sidestepped along the counter until there was a sink between them.

“To be fair –“

“Why should we be fair to her? She stole your man!”

Darcy loved Jane’s loyalty, even if it was horribly misconstrued. Steve, unfortunately, was never her man. “And all those times we’ve talked to her at the café? You know, when you complimented her hair and she said something nice about your clothing?”

“She lives on tips.” Jane pulled the paper towels from the dispenser with more force than necessary. The woman opted to leave the bathroom without drying her hands, waving them in the air as she escaped the small space. “She was being professional. You know how I know that?”

Jane asked without waiting for an answer. “I know because my clothing does not incite compliments!”

Darcy eyed Jane’s holey jeans and olive green plaid shirt. There was a red stain on the collar. It could be pizza. Or blood. Darcy hoped it was pizza. “I like your boots,” she said with a nod at

Jane’s black combat boots.

“Thanks. They’re yours.”

“I wondered where those went!”

* * *

Steve sat on Beth’s couch, his back rim rod straight as he listened to her bustle around the kitchen. She’d asked him to come over, told him she needed to talk to him. When he asked if something was wrong, she simply said “Please.” He couldn’t not go. He told the others he’d try to meet up with them later. Darcy suggested he bring Beth. She looked him in the eye and everything when she said it. He nodded and said maybe, giving her a quick hug (which she didn’t return) before leaving.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” Beth called.

“I’m fine!”

She was nervous. She was trembling when she opened the door, prompting Steve to ask if she was in trouble, his eyes sweeping her small apartment for signs of danger. She’d faked a laugh and said something about catching the tail end of a horror movie on TV, but he knew she was lying. He led her to her living room, one arm cupping her elbow, waiting until she was settled on the couch before joining her. The second he did, she was back up, chattering about refreshments. Was he hungry? She could make him a snack.

“Beth,” he started as she re-entered the living room, choosing to perch on the overstuffed ottoman near her television instead of joining him on the couch. “Something’s bothering you. Please tell me.”

She started talking. She told him about her ex, Jeremy, who was a New York City police officer. They, too, met at the café, though he was there for coffee, not stopping an alien invasion, she said with a small grin. They dated for two years, they even talked about marriage, but then he was shot responding to a convenience store robbery. He was fine – a few days in the hospital and eight weeks of desk duty before he was back on the beat – but he wasn’t the same. He stopped talking about the future, about their future. She tried to be patient, to give him time, but he blocked her out and pushed her away.

“And then one day, I snapped,” she continued, her eyes following the condensation on her glass of iced tea, her thumb stopping the drop before it could fall to the carpeted floor. “I don’t even know why. Nothing stands out as the last straw, but it was and for the first time in months, I yelled at him. He took it. He sat there and let me scream every horrible thing I could think of, and when I said he better straighten out because I’d had it, he told me that it was for the best.”

She took a sip of her tea, her hands shaking as she brought the glass to her lips. Steve leaned over and plucked it from her, setting it on the bookshelf that doubled as a side table, the white dessert plate with tiny blue flowers serving as a coaster.

“I left him that day. I told myself I was not going to talk to him until he got himself figured out. A few weeks passed and I didn't hear from him. I started to believe it was really over. Then you asked me to dinner.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I thought I could do it: date another man; maybe even fall for him. You made it easy, Steve. You’re so sweet and kind, and I love spending time with you …”

“But I’m not Jeremy,” he finished.

She sadly shook her head. “He called me a couple of days ago. He’s been going to a therapist, a doctor his sergeant recommended when he was released from the hospital. He’s been helping him work through some things. He said he realized he shut me out because he was afraid. He’s been on the force for ten years, but for the first time, he was afraid something might happen to him on the job and he wouldn’t be there for me or for our family, or our future family, I guess. So he pushed me away before he could ruin my life.” She gave a weak chuckle, her fingers brushing away the tears that started to fall. “Isn’t that the dumbest thing you ever heard of? Who pushes away the person they love?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed softly. “Dumb.”

* * *

Darcy had a strong voice. It wasn't necessarily a good voice, but it’s powerful and she can (for the most part) carry a tune. She’s no Adele, but she has the confidence to perform one of her songs, selling it until everyone in the crowd agreed she was awesome.

“It’s all about confidence,” Darcy told Bucky as Clint wrapped up his rendition of Stevie Ray Vaughn’s _Pride and Joy_. “Pick something you like and sing like there’s no tomorrow!”

In deference to Bucky’s first karaoke experience, Sam and Darcy agreed to suspend the categories portion of the evening. Instead, each person would choose one song to perform – after several warm-up rounds because they loved to show off. As always, the audience’s applause determined the winner.

Darcy’s eyes roamed Duets, feeling at home under the LED lights that illuminated the room, casting shadows along the deep red booths that lined the walls, surrounding the raised platform stage in the middle. Bucky was tense when they first arrived, his eyes scrutinizing the space, taking note of exits and blind spots, things that could be used as weapons. Darcy knew from hanging out with Natasha and Clint that he couldn’t just turn off years of training brainwashing. It was part of him, like a third limb. So she stood quietly and waited for Bucky to settle on the best seat in the house, a place where he could see everyone, watch the exit and keep his back to the wall.

Bucky flipped though the black binder of song options. He recognized maybe a quarter of the titles. “What’s Steve like to sing?”

“Please,” Darcy snorted around a sip of beer. “He never sings. I think you’ll get him dancing before he sings.”

Bucky looked up. “Wanna bet?”

“Sure.” Darcy wiped her hand on her jeans before shaking Bucky’s. “What’s the stakes?”

His lips turned up in a wicked grin. “Let’s leave it open for now,” he suggested.

Darcy shrugged. Yeah, Bucky’s known Steve longer, but she’s seen him in the modern world. If she couldn’t talk him into singing with her, it wasn’t going to happen. “Whatevs.” She finished her beer and looked around the bar for their waitress. “Are you going to sing?”

Bucky pushed the binder away with a shake of his head. “‘fraid not. My musical history lessons have not yet extended to …” he tilted his head to read a title, “ _Hit Me Baby One More Time_ ,” he finished with a scoff.

“Again, don’t mock what you don’t understand. Britney was the queen of my childhood.” Darcy picked up the binder and flipped to the duet section. She ran a finger down the list before fishing her well-loved iPod out of her purse, scrolling through her playlists. “Here,” she handed him her iPod and earbuds. “Listen close because that’s what we’re singing.”

Bucky took it with an amused expression. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”

“And that’s how I got Steve,” she smirked as the waitress appeared with a full pitcher of beer.

* * *

Oh, yeah. She could see how James Barnes earned his reputation as a ladies man. He sauntered onto the stage like he was born to do it, winking at a table full of girls who whistled and "Whoohooed" appreciatively as he tugged his microphone free from its stand. Ever the gentleman (thank you, 1940s), he helped Darcy up the stairs. “Ready, doll?”

“Show me what you’ve got.”

The music started. The crowd cheered, recognizing the tune. Bucky turned his attention to the computer screen, his eyes focused on the words as they appeared.

_Girl you're beautiful_

_You're bout near perfect_

_But I bet somebody's already told you that_

_Name your poison_

_Name your passion_

_Cause a boy like me just couldn't help but ask_

Darcy grinned and took over the next verse. They finished Lady Antebellum’s _Lookin’ for a Good Time_ to thunderous applause, Bucky having found his footing about halfway through the song, pulling Darcy into a dramatic dip when the last note ended. The crowd roared its approval, a few women fluttering their hands in front of their faces to cool down.

“I hope you don’t think that counts,” Sam told Darcy when she and Bucky arrived at the team’s table. “Individual scores only, girl.”

“Sing away, Judgey McJudgerson.” Darcy waved to the stage. “I have nothing to fear.”

Her bravado may have faltered a little as she watched Sam perform _You Really Got Me_ , the man known around the world as The Falcon strutting around the stage as he gave The Kinks’ tune everything he had. The audience was loving it. Crap.

“Smart,” Natasha remarked. “A classic speak to both genders.”

“Fuck that; it’s an awesome song!” Tony whistled shrilly as Sam leapt off the stage. He sauntered to their table, full on Sam Wilson swagger.

“You’re up, Short Stack.” Clint nudged Bruce to slide over so Darcy could exit. She patted the quiet physicist on the arm, made the universal “I’m watching you” gesture to Sam and walked to the DJ’s booth to make her request. If she happened to put an extra sway in her hips when she passed the table full of drunk college boys, well that was her business. And God’s. He’s the one who blessed her with such ample assets after all.

“Go Darcy!” Jane shouted, elbowing Thor in the side until he called her name, too. Tony raised his glass of scotch in a silent toast. Bucky leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he watched Darcy shake her hair away from her face. She dragged the microphone stand to the middle of the stage. From what Sam described, Darcy was an all-over-the-place performer. What was she up to?

The music started, a bluesy jazz-type tune that had the bar cheering before Darcy even opened her mouth.

_I love you_

_But I gotta stay true_

_My morals got me on my knees_

_I'm beggin' please_

_Stop playin' games_

_I don't know what this is_

_Cause you got me good_

Steve watched from the shadows, his arms crossed over his chest as Darcy sang, her hips rocking in a graceful sway with the beat. He knew this song. _Mercy_. He’s heard her sing it before, soft and quiet under her breath while working in Jane’s lab. It’s not a love song; not really. It’s a song about strong feelings, intense feelings – Love? Obsession? – that the singer desperately wished would go away.

Darcy pulled the microphone from the stand and walked off the stage, her focus on a group of men (Boys, Steve thought) at a nearby table. She sat on the lap of a brown-haired kid wearing a backwards baseball cap – Steve’s hands clenched automatically; he’s seen Darcy step into the role of performer before, but it was too much this time – and sang the next verse to him, tapping his nose playfully with her index finger before hopping up to continue the song, this time setting her sights on Bucky. Steve shook his head when Bucky didn’t give her a chance to play, pulling her on his lap with a flourish he remembered from their days at dancing halls.

_I'm beggin' you for mercy_

_Why won't you release me_

_I'm beggin' you for mercy_

_You got me beggin, you got me beggin', you got me beggin'_

Darcy took the shot Natasha handed her and swallowed it with a flourish as a guitar wailed, the entire bar roaring in response. With their cheers egging her on, Darcy made her way back to the stage, her hands gripping the microphone like a lifeline as she placed it back in the stand. She finished the song with her eyes closed, her face practically pleading for peace.

Bucky caught Steve’s eye, the only one besides Clint and Natasha to acknowledge his presence, letting him stay in the shadows until he was ready to alert the others to his arrival. Steve shook his head at his friend’s raised eyebrow. He knew what Bucky was saying. It was only a song. Darcy performed the hell out of it because she wanted to beat Sam. It wasn’t personal.

(But it felt personal.)

He moved to join the team, to take his place among his friends, when his phone rang, the Avengers Assemble Alarm echoed throughout the bar as the others’ phones sounded, too.

“You better not think saving the world is a valid excuse not to buy me my victory drink,” Darcy shouted at Sam as he and the others hurried to the bar’s exit. “You owe me!”


	7. Chapter 7

_She was the one to hold me_

_The night_

_The sky fell down_

_And what was I thinking when_

_The world didn't end_

_Why didn't I know what I know now_

Crazy For This Girl – Evan and Jaron

* * *

Darcy studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. She ignored the salesclerk hovering near her elbow and Jane perched on the leather lounger, her head bobbing up in down as she considered her former assistant.

“That’s the one,” she announced. “That’s the interview outfit.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You’ve said that about the last three outfits.”

“But this time I mean it!” Jane got up and joined Darcy in front of the mirror. “You, my friend, are gorgeous, but your fashion taste is deplorable.”

“Says the woman wearing a Sandy Cheeks T-shirt.”

“Don’t hate, she’s a scientist,” Jane said automatically. “Like I was saying, you have spent the last forty minutes trying on clothes you think a professional woman should wear; not clothes Professional Darcy Lewis should wear.”

“She’s right,” the salesclerk said, the expression on her face making it obvious that it pained her to admit that.

Darcy took another look. The black pencil shirt and crisp white cotton shirt were tighter than her previous attempts at dressing like an adult, hugging her curves in a way that seemed feminine; not trampy. The skirt’s hem ended just below her knees. Paired with the three-inch black heels she decided to buy the second she saw them, the overall effect struck the professional tone she wanted, but without making her look like Mrs. Garret, her elementary school librarian. “Janey!”

Darcy cried as inspiration struck. “Give me my glasses.”

Jane rushed back the lounge and plucked Darcy’s glasses (she only wore them for reading or spending hours in front of a computer screen – or if she was too sleepy after a late night streaming Netflix) out of her purse. Darcy slid them on, lips pursed in a thoughtful frown as she took in their effect on the outfit. She gathered her hair in her hands, twisted it into a messy up do and secured it with the elastic on her wrist. Turning, she placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose. “Well?”

Jane held up her phone and took a picture, messaging it to Thor before Darcy could protest. “Oops.”

“‘Oops?’ What do you mean oops? Why are you saying oops?” She grabbed Jane’s phone. “JANE! You sent that picture to Tony!”

“Sorry! I forgot I texted him earlier! He keeps hiding my duct tape! The man refuses to admit the machines I build are just as good as those he throws money away on; maybe even better! I’ve had it to here with him, so I –“

“Jane! Focus! You just sent a slutty picture of me to Tony Freakin’ Stark!” The sales clerk gasped. “SEE?” Darcy pointed to the willowy blond. “She understands the severity of this situation!”

“Relax.” Jane leaned over to study the picture. “It’s not a slutty picture. You look beautiful!”

“I look like every pubescent male’s hot librarian fantasy come to life.”

“No one thinks that!”

“Oh yeah?” Darcy gave Jane her phone. "Read Tony's text.”

_Stark: Lewis looks like every pubescent male’s hot librarian fantasy come to life._

* * *

Steve exited the quinjet slowly, one arm around Bucky’s shoulders, the other around Thor’s waist. It hurt to breathe. The pain wasn’t as sharp as it was, but it was there, a subtle reminder of the bullet that had lodged itself in his lungs. Bruce was able to remove it, but only after cutting into Steve after his advanced body healed itself, sealing the bullet’s entry. Still, the pain was welcome in comparison to Bucky’s silence. This wasn’t the first mission they’d gone on together since Bucky’s return and it wouldn’t be their last. Things happened in the field. People got hurt.

_“You say people, but you mean you!” Bucky fumed as Bruce dug a fucking hole in his best friend to retrieve the bullet stuck inside of him. A bullet he failed to stop. “Jesus, Steve!”_

_Steve closed his eyes. He couldn’t deal with Bucky and his guilt right now. He was in pain. For the first time in a long time, he felt physical pain. Christ, it was like being a kid again, when every breath was a struggle, every movement a battle._

_“You’ll be fine, Steve,” Bruce soothed, his voice as steady as his hands as he worked._

_“Hey Steve,” Tony staged whispered seconds before his face appeared upside down above him._

_He groaned. Not now. "No offense, Tony, but if I’m going to die — “_

_“You aren’t going to die!” Bucky forced the words through gritted teeth. “You fucking die and I_ _’m going to kill you!”_

_“— yours in the last face I want to see.”_

_“Rude,” Tony replied. “But also understandable when you could be looking at this!” He thrust_ _his cell phone in Steve’s face._

 _He was dead. He’d died and gone to heaven. That was the only explanation for what he saw_ _before his eyes slid closed._

“You fought a fierce battle, Steven.” Thor spoke softly (which was a normal tone for most people) in deference to Steve’s injuries. “Hell is filled with the screams of its new victims thanks to you.”

“Yay,” Steve grunted as Bucky guided him to the elevator with considerable less care than Thor. “Go team,” he finished with a tired sigh. All he wanted was something to eat, a hot shower and six horizontal hours. This was the biggest Hydra base they’d seen since SHIELD collapsed. It was a long fight. It was a hard fight, but they won. He absently scratched at the knife wound on his right forearm, the long gash already scabbed over.

“Used to be you’d catch a fever or something when you acted stupid and it’d keep you bed-ridden for a day or two,” Bucky grumbled as the trio shuffled down the hallway to Steve and Bucky’s apartment. “Now you fucking heal too fast for your actions to have any impact.”

“Pick a side, Buck,” Steve said tiredly. “You’re either pissed at me for getting hurt or pissed at me for healing too fast. It can't be both.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Ah, this is how it should be between brothers.” Thor beamed at the super soldiers. “Steven, your friend is angry because he cares.”

“Nah, he just likes being a pain in the ass.”

“And you weren’t during my recovery?” Bucky countered.

Steve uncurled his arms from his human bookends and shuffled to the kitchen, propping himself against the counter. “So, what? This is revenge?”

Bucky smirked. “Now why would I do that?”

* * *

Officially, Darcy didn’t live in the tower during her employment with Jane (Not Tony!), but she’d spent the night many times due to Jane’s strokes of brilliance at Are You Freaking Kidding Me O’clock? or because a Star Wars movie screening couldn’t end after watching _The Empire Strikes Back_ because that’s just cruel and Steve had suffered enough. Her not quite nine-to-five schedule meant she had some experience with the odd hours the Avengers kept, from Clint’s habit of catching one to two hours of sleep multiple times over the course of a day, Steve running a damn marathon before the sun was up, or Tony working seventy-two hours straight before Pepper managed to override JARVIS’ instructions to keep all people out of his face forever and ever, amen. She’d watch as they rushed out to save the world, once experiencing some sort of crazy interactive viewing with the fight happening on TV and just outside the tower windows. She yelled at Clint for falling off buildings (“He’s the one that needs wings, Sam!”), commiserated with Thor that Midgard battles were not bloody enough, and munched on popcorn while watching Natasha sharpen her knives.

Only once did Darcy witness Steve as a soldier injured in battle, his body bruised and battered in the Washington, D.C. hospital bed. It was not something she ever wanted to experience again, so when JARVIS announced that the team was back and Darcy asked for a status report, she was not prepared for his response.

“Sergeant Barnes and Prince Thor are accompanying Captain Rogers to his room.”

“Why?” Darcy flipped to the next page in Jane’s copy of Martha Stewart Living. Home décor was Jane’s porn. “Have things gotten kinkier in my absence?”

“According to Sir, the Captain was shot during battle. The bullet was lodged in his left lung, limiting his respiratory functions.”

Darcy was out the door before JARVIS finished talking.

“Steve!” she shouted, banging on his apartment door with her fists. “Steve, open up! JARRVIS, can you give me entry?”

“I have not been advised to do so.”

“Damn it, J! You know me! I’m not going to hurt him!” Later she would swear that she heard

JARVIS sigh before the door’s lock disengaged. “You’re a peach!” she cried, rushing into the apartment, ignoring Bucky’s call from the kitchen. She made her way to Steve’s bedroom, faltering at the sight of his uniform in a dirty, bloody mess on the floor. The bathroom door was partially open, steam obstructing the view of the very wet, very naked and thank fucking Thor very much alive Steve Rogers. Darcy gently closed the door and fell to the floor in a graceless heap.

“You alright?” Bucky asked from the doorway.

Darcy poked at Steve’s uniform. “He goes through these things faster than Tony does his suits.” She wanted to play it cool, but she could smell blood. Steve’s blood. It made her want to cry. “I thought Kevlar was supposed to stop bullets.”

Bucky joined her on the floor, still dressed in the Winter Soldier’s combat gear. He, too, was covered in dirt and blood (Steve’s blood, Darcy thought), but he put his arm around Darcy anyway. “They had some tech we weren’t expecting. Alien weaponry and human bullets make a formidable combination. Stark and Banner are gonna look into; see if there's a way to use the alien we have on our side to shut down their weapons remotely.”

“Yay for science,” Darcy muttered. “I fucking hate bad guys. They’re always shooting at my friends.”

“That all we are, doll? Friends?”

Darcy buried closer to Bucky, grateful that he could joke around. That must mean everything would be fine. Steve would be fine. “You flirting with me, soldier? Want to show me a good time?”

“Give me one night, dollface, and I’ll give you the world.”

“Jesus Buck,” Steve stepped out of the bathroom clad in only a pair of navy blue track pants, his blond hair sopping wet despite the towel in his hands. Bruce told him not to raise his arms until he was satisfied Steve was healed. “That line hasn’t worked since ’42.”

“Maybe not for you.” Bucky pushed himself to his feet before helping Darcy to hers. “Do me a favor and dry that guy’s hair for him before he catches a cold.”

“I’m not twelve, Bucky. I don’t get sick anymore.”

“You were fucking shot! Your goddamn magical immune system might be taking a little break while your body focuses on healing. Ever think of that?” Bucky stomped to the door, head ducked low so Steve wouldn’t see his grin. “I’m gonna take a shower. Oatmeal’s ready on the stove.”

Darcy turned to Steve. “Oatmeal?”

Steve shrugged. It was stiff, but he could do it without much pain. Point serum. “Easy to make.

Cheap. Sticks to your bones.”

“OK,” Darcy drawled, tugging on the towel until Steve followed her to his bed. She gestured for him to sit, then planted herself between his splayed legs and rubbed the towel over his hair. “He does know Tony pays for your groceries, right?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like it. Oatmeal was our comfort food back in the day. Well, somedays it was our only food, but same difference.”

Darcy made a humming sound in her throat that hopefully covered up her little squeak of sympathy. “Think he’ll make a fuss if I whip up something to go with the gloopy sludge?”

Steve looked up. “I know I’d appreciate it.”

“That’s what we’ll do then,” Darcy ruffled his semidry hair. “Even though I’m kind of mad at you for getting shot.”

“Join the club.”

“I already have the T-shirt.”

* * *

Darcy could cook. She didn’t like to cook – too many years of making dinner for her younger brothers while their parents worked late – but every now and then the urge to pick up a spatula made itself known. Usually, she’d run away until it was gone, but sometimes she gave in and that’s when the magic happened.

Breakfast foods were Darcy’s specialty. She was a pro at the brinner menu before Scrubs made the term a household commodity. Give her a dozen eggs and she could make a person fall to their knees in celebration of the chicken. Bucky walked into the kitchen to the smell of bacon cooking in the oven (“It’s better this way; trust me,” Darcy told him.), potatoes simmering in the cast iron skillet, and Darcy chopping a mountain of vegetables for cheesy veggie omelets.

“Go ahead and eat your oatmeal,” she told him. “Everything’ll be ready when you finish.”

He did as she said, Steve already working on his second bowl. Darcy placed a plate of cinnamon toast in the middle of the table (her mother’s go-to sick food), saying nothing as both men grunted their thanks.

“She always do this?” Bucky asked Steve under his breath. “‘Cause if the answer's yes, you’re even dumber than I thought.”

Steve flipped Bucky the bird and kept eating, feeling tons better with real food in his stomach.

Darcy carried two plates piled high with food to the table, nudging the oatmeal bowls away with a grimace. She joined them a minute later. Her own plate had considerably less food.

“Sure you got enough?” Steve was prepared to share.

“I’m not sure if you know this, but it’s after midnight. Believe me when I say my body is not accustomed to eating this much this late at night." She ate a forkful of potatoes. "Sober, anyway. Besides, I’m meeting with Pepper tomorrow morning and I’ve got this amazing outfit that totally makes me look like a grown up, but there is no wiggle room for extra poundage.”

“You talking about the outfit in the picture?” Bucky leered, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“Oh God,” Darcy groaned. “Who’d he show it to?”

“Everyone,” Bucky grinned. “Pretty sure it brought Stevie back from the brink of death.”

“Really?” Darcy turned to Steve with a wicked smile. “Well, in that case, I’m glad Jane is a brilliant astrophysicist who can’t operate a cell phone to save her life. She thought she sent that picture to Thor.”

“Why would Thor want that picture?” Bucky asked.

“Because he wouldn’t see it as sexy librarian, but little sister Darcy all grown up. Janey was feeling very motherly.”

“I liked the glasses,” Bucky said around a mouthful of toast. “Pretty hot.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, ducking her head before Bucky could see her blush.

“Why are you meeting with Pepper?” Steve asked.

“Oh yeah, you still don’t know.” Darcy wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “Well, while you gentlemen and Natasha were off playing cops and robbers with Hydra, I prepared for my interview with Stark Industries.”

Steve leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to work for Tony?”

“Dear God, no. I’d work for Pepper. I’m interviewing to be a lobbyist for SI; you know, put my degrees to work for the company’s benefit.”

Steve’s face was unreadable. “Would you live here or DC? Or Malibu?”

Darcy shook her head at Steve’s question. “I don’t know. I haven’t even had the interview yet, so don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s a ton to think about. Can I do the job? Do I even want to do the job?”

“Why interview if you don’t want it?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it, I said I didn’t know if I wanted it." She snagged a piece of bacon off his plate. "There’s a difference. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“Why wouldn’t you want it?” Bucky persisted as Darcy started clearing the table. Steve moved to help, but she gestured for him to stay put, blue eyes narrowing dangerously when it looked like he was going to protest. The same look kept Bucky in his chair, too. She saw the bruises on his arm, the butterfly bandages on his knuckles. Yeah, they’d both be fine by morning, but they were hurt now and she was going to take care of them. They’d just have to deal with it.

“I don’t know. I guess part of me wonders why I even got this interview. It’s not like I have experience. I was in the running for longest unpaid intern before Jane accepted SI’s job offer. Then I became a barely paid assistant. I’ve got a bachelor’s degree in political science and a master’s in public policy, but my resume shows nothing related to either field.” She started the dishwasher and filled the sink with hot, soapy water to soak the pans. A helping hand only extended so far. For Darcy, that was washing dishes by hand. “Let's say I do get the job. Did I get it because I’ll be good at it or because Pepper likes me? And,” she continued before either man could argue against her train of thought, “there’s the fact that the job basically puts me where I started: Stark Industries. I thought going to California would mean something different, but I’m right back to where I was two years ago.” She folded the white dishtowel and placed it on the kitchen countertop. “See, this is why people usually drink at this time of night. You try to have a sober conversation this late and shit gets real too fast. I’m gonna go before I start reciting passages from my dream journal, and no I don’t have one. I’m totally making fun of people who do.”

She kissed Bucky on the cheek. “Get some sleep. I already told JARVIS not to let anyone make coffee until they’ve clocked at least five hours in dreamland.” She circled the table and kissed the top of Steve’s head. “That goes for you, too, Cap. And no running tomorrow! I promise that boyish figure won’t up and disappear after one lazy day.”

With that, she swept out of the apartment. Steve watched her leave. Bucky watched Steve.

“What?” the blond asked.

“Back to where she was two years ago, punk.” Bucky leaned back in his chair. “You gonna give her a different ending this time?”


	8. Chapter 8

_I won't give up on us, even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love, I'm still looking up_

I Won’t Give Up – Jason Mraz

* * *

 

The good thing about staying in the same building that housed your possible future employer was that you didn’t have to worry about traffic making you late to your job interview. The bad thing was that you had time to kill before said interview. Thirty-seven minutes, to be exact.

Darcy turned off the television. How was she supposed to keep her mind off of her interview with Pepper Potts when CNN was airing a special on the woman? She checked Words With Friends to see if any friends had played words in the last minute. They had not. She should get new friends. She thought about wandering to Jane’s lab, but knowing her luck, today would be the day Jane exploded something and Darcy’s outfit would suffer. She checked the time.

Thirty-five minutes.

_Knock, knock_

Darcy sprinted to the door as fast as she could in her tight skirt and high heels. “Thank God!” she cried as she opened it, not caring one bit who was on the other side.

* * *

 

He shuffled his feet. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should go. He could deal with Bucky’s smartass remarks for another day.

_“You better make your move, Stevie.”_

_He tensed at Bucky’s threatening tone. “Or?”_

_“Or I may decide to keep this dame for myself.”_

He knocked before he lost his nerve. Seconds later, the door swung open. She was wearing the outfit. Immediately, all of his thoughts went south, specifically to his now too-tight jeans. Not trusting himself to speak, he thrust the bouquet of creamy white flowers in her face.

“For me?” she asked dumbly.

“For you,” he confirmed, smiling as Darcy took the bouquet and buried her face in the fragrant blossoms. “They’re stephanotis. The florist says they mean good luck.”

Darcy’s head snapped up. “You went to a nursery when you’re supposed to be taking it easy? Didn’t I tell you to rest today? Dammit, Steve, you never listen to me!”

Steve pushed his way into Jane and Thor’s apartment, comfortably familiar with Darcy’s tirades.

“I listen to you all the time, Darce. If I don’t, you get louder.”

“Ha, ha,” she said sarcastically as she walked into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the counter for a vase or something for the flowers. Steve watched as she dumped the contents of a blue plastic pitcher filled with ballpoint pens, rubber bands and paper clips into an already-stuffed drawer.

“And,” he continued as Darcy filled the pitcher with water, “it’s nearing ten; well past your five hours of sleep directive.”

“Fine,” she grudgingly admitted. “But you shouldn’t have walked to the florist.”

“I didn’t walk.”

“You took a cab? That’s OK then.”

Technically, he took his motorcycle. He waited to see if Darcy would figure it out, but she was already walking past him towards the living room, the pitcher of flowers in her hands. She must be nervous if she didn’t catch his lie of omission. Darcy was one of a select group of people who knew when he was lying. Bucky and Natasha were the others. It wasn’t that he was particularly good at it. Rather, people didn’t expect Captain America to lie; therefore they believed everything that came out of his mouth.

He cleaned up at poker night.

“How are you doing?” he asked, partly because he wanted to know but also to distract himself from staring at her too long. The picture on the phone did not do Darcy justice; she was even more beautiful in person. He swallowed at the image she painted in that skirt and heels, remembering the one night he’d been allowed to explore her curves. “Excited? Nervous? Feel like you’re going to throw up?”

“A little, yes and oh my God, you have no idea! My stomach is jumping all over the place!” She set the flowers on the coffee table. “Remember when I had the flu so bad even water made me vomit? It’s totally like that but worse!”

Steve made a sympathetic face. She’d been sick for days. He’d been tasked with taking care of her because of his superior immune system and, according to Darcy, his excellent back rubs. “Need a distraction?”

“Yes, please!”

He perched on the arm of the couch. “Bucky said to tell you good luck.”

“Tell him thanks,” she replied as she walked in circles around the room, too anxious to sit. “Or not, since he’s apparently too good to come here and say it himself.”

Steve grinned. He wasn’t surprised she already considered Bucky a friend. She’d listened to stories about him for years. She knew Bucky before she even met him. He was pretty sure Bucky felt the same way about Darcy, given how quickly she got past his defense mechanisms. “He wanted to come,” he admitted. “I asked him not to.”

That stopped her. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk to you without an audience," he answered truthfully. "We haven’t had any time alone since you got here.”

“News flash: I’m not the one who was gone for two days.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “You superheroes are always playing the ‘We had to stop evil from taking over the world’ card. It’s getting old.”

“I’ll let the bad guys know you’re displeased.”

“That’s all I ask,” she cheekily replied. “But I’m here until Friday. Barring any other emergencies, we have plenty of time to catch up!” She wandered around the room, fluffing throw pillows, stacking Jane’s collection of periodicals into a neat pile and nudging Thor’s abnormally large shoes out of her way with the toe of her heels. “Hey, maybe we can go to the café later and you can officially introduce me to Beth. I mean, yeah, sure, I’ve met her before, but not as Steve Rogers’ best female friend. I’ve gotta give her the once over, you know. See if she’s good enough for you.”

“Bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

She turned to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Here goes nothing. “We’re not together anymore.”

She looked down quickly. “Oh,” she said quietly. She was relieved. She’d tried to hide it, but he saw that little spark flash in her eyes before she ducked her head. Maybe there was a chance. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe this was their time.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s getting back with her ex.”

“I’m sorry,” she said automatically.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not.”

Her head snapped up. “Huh?”

He walked towards her. “It wasn’t going to work out. She still loved him and I … I was hung up on this girl I couldn’t get out of my head – not that I made much of an effort.”

It was there again; that little spark of hope in her eyes. “You didn’t?” she asked.

Steve shook his head, one large hand cupping Darcy’s face. “I didn’t.”

“Why?” she asked, nibbling nervously on her lower lip.

“‘Cause I didn’t want to,” he told her, his blue eyes locked with hers as his thumb slowly stroked her cheek. “She said it wasn’t our time before. I think what she meant was I wasn’t ready for her. She told me she was leaving because she wanted to go back to school, to finish what she started, but I also think it’s because she saw that I needed to finish what I started.”

“Finding Bucky?” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

“Yes and no,” he admitted. “I needed to grow up. My birth certificate may say I'm 96, but she knew that wasn’t true. She figured it out long before I did. I was born in a different time, essentially a different world. She made it easier for me to navigate the future. I’ll forever be grateful for that, but I was using her.”

She took a step back. His hand fell to his side. “You didn’t use me!” Darcy shouted. “Why would you say that? Why would you think that?”

He tucked his hands in his back pockets. “Because it’s true. Any part of me that wasn’t focused on Bucky was centered on you. You were my rock, Darcy. I told people you were the reason I was finally able to adjust.”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m not seeing the problem with that!”

He chuckled half-heartedly. “I know. I thought it was complimentary, too, but it wasn’t. It’s not. I put you on a damn pedestal, convinced myself you were perfect.” He turned away from her. He didn’t plan on having this conversation now. All he wanted to do was give her the flowers, tell her he was proud of her and wish her luck, but then she’d mentioned Beth … He couldn’t let her keep thinking he was with someone else, not even for another hour.

“Steve?”

“I did the same with Peggy, you know. Latched on to her during basic training and used her response to my actions as my guide for the rest of the war. Hell, I even did it to Bucky! He used to accuse me of deliberately starting fights, joking that I liked getting beat up. I think part of me liked how he saw me during fights -- not sick, but strong; even with a black eye and a bloody nose.”

“I don’t understand,” she said in a small, confused voice.

Steve sat on the arm of a chair. “I’m not as strong as people think I am, Darcy; not on the inside. Captain America is strong. He’s a leader. For so long I assumed it was the same for Steve Rogers, but it’s not. You saw that. Don’t shake your head at me; you know I’m right.” He got up and stalked to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. “I’m a soldier. I follow orders, but people stopped giving them to me a long time ago. It took me awhile to realize I had to call my own shots. I had to venture out of my comfort zone and try something new. I had to fail. I had to fall. I had to let go of the woman I cared about so that someday, hopefully, I’d be worthy of her.”

Darcy joined him at the window. “Are you there yet?”

He looked at her, his lips curving up in a wry grin. “It turns out this whole finding yourself process never really ends, but I do think I’m at a place where I’m enough of a whole person that I could be one half of a couple -- a real couple,” he stressed. “I tried settling for OK because I was too scared to go after the real thing. I won’t do that again.”

Darcy’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re telling me Captain America gets scared?”

He shook his head. “Not Cap; Steve. And yeah, I get scared. I’ve been scared of you since the day we met.” He took a deep breath. “You fucking terrify me, Darcy. You challenge me and push me. You’re bossing me around one minute and coddling me the next. You listen to me talk about the past without making me feel foolish. You answer my questions the same way. You’ve never treated me differently. I didn’t realize how much I needed that, but you did.” Steve kept his hands in his pockets. He wanted to touch her, but he knew once he did, he’d never stop and she needed to hear this. “I didn’t want you to leave. I said I understood, but I lied. I wanted you here, waiting for me. I wanted to go all over the world looking for Bucky knowing you’d be here when I got back. You were my safety net. That wasn’t fair. It took me awhile to stop being so stubborn and realize that, but I did. Eventually.” He took her hands. His were so much bigger than hers, but he knew Darcy’s strength. She could carry more than people realized.

She eyed him wearily. “That’s a lot of words, Steve. What do they mean?”

“They mean I want this to be our time. I want to give us a chance, the chance we weren’t ready to take before. I want to call you mine and for me to be yours -- but only if you want it, too.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. She had to leave soon. “I didn’t mean to throw this at you before your interview, honestly I didn’t, but I couldn’t let you think I was still with someone else.” He gently squeezed her hands. “I want to be with you, Darcy; only you,” he told her before letting go and taking a step back.

“Dude, you say you want to move forward, but you're retreating."

“You have your interview, Darce. You need to focus on that so you can be the amazing woman I know you are. And then you need to make a decision – without my influence. You need to do what’s right for you because it’s right for you; not because it’s right for me or right for us.” He cupped her face in his hands. He couldn’t help it. She was right there. He had to touch her. “I’m here for you no matter what; whether you get the job or don’t get the job; take the job or don’t take the job; live in New York City or Timbuktu.” She smiled at that. “I’m here for you even if you tell me you don’t want me; that it’s too late and you want to stay friends. I’m not being self-sacrificing,” he said hurriedly when she started to protest. “I’ve played the martyr enough in my life. I’m done with that. I’m ready to go after what makes me happy. You, Darcy Lewis, make me happy and if you’ll let me, I’ll do everything I can to make you happy, too.” He took a deep breath. “But I can wait. If you decide you’re not ready or say you don’t want this, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as I need to, Darcy, because you’re it for me and I know, eventually, you’ll realize I’m it for you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, essentially, what you’re saying is you’ll wear me down someday?”

Steve kissed the top of her head. That was all he’d allow himself to do. For now. “Pretty much,” he quipped. “But in a much nicer and more romantic way.”

“The Hallmark movie version of stalking?” she joked.

“Steve Rogers is a man with a mission,” he spoke in a deep imitation of a movie announcer’s voice.

“What he didn’t know is Darcy Lewis has a mission, too,” she interrupted seconds before she launched herself at him.

He caught her. He’d always catch her. She pressed her lips to his and he forgot his plan to keep things chaste, the urge to delve into her open mouth, to reacquaint himself with her taste greater than anything he’d ever felt. The months apart fell away as he pulled her closer, desperate to take what he’d denied himself for so long. She tasted the same. He revealed in the familiarity. He didn’t forget. He would never forget. It haunted him, taunted him, and now she was here, in his arms. Finally.

“Steve,” she sighed into his mouth.

“God,” he groaned. “I love how you say my name.” He kissed her harder, deeper. His hands were played on her back, pressing her closer. He tried to slide a thigh between her legs, but was stopped by her skirt. Her skirt! The interview!

“Hey!” Darcy complained when he pulled away. “Why’d you stop the kissing?”

He had no idea. Wait, yeah he did. Because he was stupid. “You have to go, Darce. Pepper’s waiting.”

She looked at the clock. She had five minutes. “Fuck!” She tore herself out of Steve’s arms. She straightened her blouse, her skirt. Her hands flew to her hair. “How bad is it?”

Her hair looked fine, but her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. “You look gorgeous,” he told her with absolute honesty.

She made a face. “You’re biased. JARVIS, how do I look? You wouldn’t know I was just making out with Steve by looking at me, right?”

There was a significant pause before the AI answered. “You look just fine, Miss Lewis.”

She did not look fine. She looked like she did the night her dad caught her making out with Tommy Rose in the front seat of his Ford Explorer. Darcy tightened her pony tail, tucking a few loose strands behind her ears. She reapplied her lipstick, pretending she did not see Steve watching her, his eyes darkening as they followed her movements. “Stop it,” she snapped, more to herself than him, but it made him shift his attention elsewhere, so she chalked it up as a victory. Maybe Pepper would think she was nervous. She was, after all. Yeah, the crazed look in her eyes was from nerves and not the fact that the man she’d been dreaming about for years all but declared his intentions to spend the rest of his life with her.

God, their timing sucked!

“Right,” she said, whirling away from the mirror to grab her leather portfolio with a copy of her resume, letters of recommendation and college transcripts tucked inside. “Let’s do this.”

Steve held her hand as he walked her to the elevator, pausing as if to let her finish the journey alone. “Nope.” She tugged in his hand until he joined her. “If I’m late, you’re my excuse.”

“OK,” he said amicably; more amicably than usual. Maybe Steve was open to suggestions after make out sessions. She’d have to test that theory. “What should I say?”

“Oh, you don’t have to say anything, honey. You just need to stand there and look pretty.” She jumped when he pinched her ass. “Hey!” She slapped at his hands. “You are supposed to be supportive right now!”

“Are you mad at me?”

She rubbed her bottom. “I’m not happy.”

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

She burst out laughing. “What has gotten into you?”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator with a smug look on his face. “You’re not nervous anymore, are you?”

He was right. She wasn’t. “No.”

“Then my work here is done,” he announced just as the elevator stopped on the administrative level for Stark Industries. “Good luck. Find me when you’re done, OK?”

Darcy nodded and stepped out of the elevator. This was it. She took a few steps and turned suddenly. “Wait!” she cried. Steve stopped the elevator door with his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

She walked back to him. She had to know. No matter what happened today, she had to know that he meant what he said. “We’re going to do this, you and me? Like really do this?”

His smile was nearly blinding. “We are. Better yet, we’re gonna do it right.”

And now she was confused again. “What does that mean?”

He grinned. It was the same shit-eating grin that made her fall for him in the first place. “You’ll see.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Oh I watch you there_

_through the window_

_And I stare at you_

_You wear nothing but you_

_wear it so well_

_tied up and twisted_

_the way I'd like to be_

_For you, for me, come crash_

_into me_

Crash Into You – Dave Matthews Band

* * *

Her phone rang just as she was fighting to get her keys in the lock. It was Steve’s ringtone.

Finally!

“Hold on!” she shouted, as if he could hear her as she fumbled through her large leather bag for her phone, the thin strap sliding down her arm. She pressed her hip against her door to keep it in place as she continued her search, latching on to the thin StarkPhone just as her key finally slid into the brass lock. “Hello?” she answered breathlessly as she spilled into the foyer of her

Georgetown townhouse, her hip catching on the oak table. “Dammit!” she hissed, dumping her bag on the floor. Every fucking day.

“Darcy? You OK?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled, kicking off her heels. “Just being my usual graceful self.”

“I can call back.”

“Hang up on me now and I swear to Thor I’ll never send you another look-at-me-all-dressed-up photo again,” she threatened, Steve’s quiet groan of frustration making her forget her own dissatisfaction.

Temporarily, of course.

She should have seen it coming. Steve’s definition of “do it right” was so not Darcy’s, the former having re-discovered his 1940s manners and sensibilities in the name of “treating his girl right.”

 _“You’d be treating me right if you had your way with me right now!” she shouted, her blunt fingernails curled in the soft cotton of Steve’s shirt. She’d been in the process of pulling it over his head during a post-job interview conversation that quickly escalated from sharing the highlights in the comfort Jane and Thor’s apartment after Darcy changed into yoga pants and a T_ _-shirt to a full-on make out session with Darcy straddling Steve on the couch, her hands tangled_ _in his hair._

_“No,” he repeated stubbornly, lifting Darcy off his lap as if she weighed nothing and gently setting her on the cushions before getting to his feet to pace the living room. She watched, fascinated, as he worked to regain control of himself, which apparently included reciting baseball statistics and hand clenching._

_“But we’ve done it before,” she whined, not ready to go down (or not, apparently) without a fight._

_“We were drunk.”_

_“And …” Darcy trailed off expectedly._

_Steve shook his head, one hand combing through his dark blond strands as he tried to hide the evidence of Darcy’s handiwork. The effect left him looking slightly tousled. It worked for him, the jerk. “Not this time,” he told her. “You’re my girl, which means you should be treated to something better than drunken groping.”_

_“Dude, you’re telling me you’re better sober?! I don’t know if my lady parts can handle that!”_

_He smiled slowly, practically sinfully. “I have faith.”_

_He also had a deep understanding of her love for frozen treats and took her out for ice cream, which temporarily eased the sting of his (reluctant) rejection. If she spent the walk back to the tower ogling his ass and plotting how to get her hands on it ASAP, he’d never know. Not that she got the chance to carry out any of her diabolical plans. The entire team was called out that afternoon, with only Bruce, Thor and Tony returning in the wee hours of morning._

_“The others got a lead on a Hydra base,” Tony swiped Darcy’s toast, which she let slide only because he topped off her coffee first._

_“How many Hydra bases is that now?”_

_“I know, right? It turns out that whole ‘chop off one head, two more grow in its place’ bullshit wasn’t just company rhetoric.”_

_Pepper offered Darcy the job that afternoon. Playing it cool – thank God Pepper didn’t insist on video chat – Darcy told her she’d let her know within twenty-four hours. She then dragged Jane out of the lab, citing her brilliant and analytical mind as all the help she needed._

_“Most people make a list,” Jane said before downing her third shot of something blue and extremely sweet. “Pros versus cons.”_

_“Yeah, but I’m my most honest when I’m drunk,” Darcy replied, already on her fifth shot._

_“The alcohol must be kicking in because that makes sense,” Jane mused as she pulled a handful of white cocktail napkins out of the silver dispenser to document Darcy’s ramblings._

_She said yes, the challenge of the position alighting something inside her she hadn’t felt in years._

_The money was amazing, of course, and Pepper insisted the offer also include her own apartment in the tower, as well as her condo in Georgetown, as she would be splitting her time between both locations. (Her condo ended up being a bargaining chip, as Pepper’s first offer was some swanky high-rise apartment in the heart of Washington, D.C. that made Darcy’s skin crawl. She preferred the quant look of her tree-lined neighborhood to the chrome and steel she associated with Tony.)_ _But what really tipped the scales in SI’s favor was the sincerity in which Pepper spoke of the company’s goal to make the world a safer place. Finally, she would be using her education to make a difference in the world._

_Pepper did not mess around. Darcy’s signature was barely dry on her contract before the redhead was on the phone with Darcy’s landlord in L.A. With Pepper coordinating the move of her few possessions from one coast to another, and the Avengers who-knows-where doing who-knows-what, Darcy flew home to Illinois to spend a few days with her parents. That was Pepper’s suggestion._

_“This is a demanding position,” she reiterated. “You should take advantage of your free time while you can.”_

_She didn’t lie. Five days later, she was in the nation’s capital, following in Pepper’s wake as she got acquainted with her office, her staff (she had a staff!) and the list of hearings she was expected to attend._

_“I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye,” she spoke quietly into her phone, not wanting her assistant (She had an assistant!) to hear her sound practically weepy as she talked to her halfway around the world long-distance boyfriend._

_“It’s probably better this way.” Steve’s voice was low in deference to his sleeping teammates. “I don’t think I would have been able to let you go.”_

_“Regretting the whole ‘do it right’ thing now, soldier?”_

_There was a long pause. “No,” he finally answered. “I want it to be special, Darce. You deserve that.”_

_“I can do special right now,” she purred, only kind of joking._

_His strangled response was enough to keep her smiling the rest of the afternoon._

“How’s wherever you are but can’t tell me?” Darcy asked as she padded to the kitchen in bare feet, the plastic bag of Chinese takeout smelling even better in the comfort of her own home.

“Better.” She could practically hear his smile over the phone. “We’re on our way home.”

Darcy paused in pulling out a plate, her mother’s lectures making it impossible for her to eat takeout in its container. “Home?” she repeated. “Like New York City, Avenger Tower home?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, sounding both happy and exhausted at the same time. “We’ve still got to debrief, but once that’s over, I was thinking maybe I could swing down for a visit …” His voice trailed off uncertainly, as if he was unsure whether or not she’d want that. “We haven’t had any time together, but if you’re too busy settling in, I can come another time – “

“Steven Grant Rogers, if your ass is not at my front door in however long it takes your bike to get here …”

There was a pause. “You going to finish your threat, sweetheart?”

“Later,” she said with a happy sigh. "I’m too busy picturing your ass right now."

* * *

“You’re an idiot.”

Steve barely spared a glance at Bucky as he tossed a couple shirts on his bed. He had no idea how long he’d stay at Darcy’s. His schedule was wide open for the next few days, having decided to give the team some much-needed downtime.

“Did you hear me?”

“I did,” Steve said on the way to the bathroom to grab his toiletries. “I figured someone with your skill set would know when they’re being ignored.”

Bucky pushed himself away from Steve’s door and stalked to his nightstand. He saw how Steve paused each time he passed the bedside table, making it obvious what was inside. Without any hesitation, he opened the drawer, grabbed the box of condoms and tossed it on the bed with Steve’s clothes.

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve groaned. “I don’t need your help anymore.”

“How I wish that was true,” he replied, throwing himself on Steve’s bed. “Instead, I’m getting

‘Tell Steve to give it up’ texts from your girl. Entertaining, sure, but since I can’t even remember the last time I had sex, I think I’m more pissed than she is. You’ve got a girl like that wanting to warm your sheets, punk, you fucking let her!”

“Lovely,” Steve grimaced, tucking a pair of khakis into his go-bag.

“I don’t see why you’re making a big deal about it,” Bucky picked up his phone and pulled up his last text conversation with Darcy. She checked on him often, though she tried not to make it look like she was checking up. "It’s not like you haven’t slept with her before.” Steve’s head snapped up. “Don’t get self-righteous on me," Bucky held up his phone. "She told me.”

Steve shook his head. He’s surprised she lasted this long. “Did she tell you we were drunk at the time? It turns out Asgardian mead triumphs where earthly liquor does not.”

“She did and I already asked Thor to bring me some. I can’t remember the last time I got drunk, either.”

Steve shook his head and kept packing. “Is this what you do with your free time? Talk to my girl about our lack of sex life?”

“Better than lamenting on my lack of sex life,” he grumbled, nudging the box of condoms closer to Steve’s bag. Steve picked it up. “I’m going down there to see her, to try the whole being a couple thing where each half of the couple is in the same city. I don’t want her to think I have expectations.”

Bucky snorted. “Pretty sure she has ‘em.”

Steve looked up. Yeah, Darcy was about as subtle as, well, Tony, but there was a reason he didn’t want to rush the physical aspect of their relationship. “Last time, just before we … I told her I loved her.”

“Yeah. So?”

“She kissed me before I explain what I meant, that it wasn’t the alcohol talking.” It still hurt to think about it, that she felt the need to distract him to avoid having a conversation about feelings.

He remembered thinking, before she was naked and his ability to think completely disappeared, that he’d tell her in the morning, but then he woke alone. “I don’t know, Buck. We fucked it up before and lost two years because of it.”

“You tell her this?”

Steve shrugged. “Told her we’re gonna do it right this time.”

“Let me guess; you didn’t tell her why.” Steve didn’t respond, which was answer enough. He shook his head and pushed himself off the bed. “I’m telling her I did my best. Here’s hoping she says you did, too.”

* * *

Darcy flicked through the rack of barely-there silk underthings, wondering why anyone would pay somewhere in the triple digits for something they wouldn’t be wearing long. Sighing, she moved to the next display, wrinkling her nose at the lace design that just looked itchy. Some might consider spending one’s lunch hour at a lingerie store a cliché, but Darcy didn’t fucking care. She had no idea what Steve had planned for his visit, but hers included a thorough tour of her bedroom, quality time in her king size bed, and orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms.

“He wouldn’t like that.”

Darcy stifled a shriek as she spun around. “What are you doing here?” she hissed at Natasha.

The redhead’s smile was faint. To the untrained eye, it didn’t even happen, but Darcy was familiar with the spy’s range of not-quite-there facial expressions. “Security check.”

“‘Security check,’” Darcy repeated, not understanding why an Avenger would need to check the security of a high-end lingerie store. “Oh no,” she groaned. “You broke into my place?”

“I tested your home security system.”

“And?”

“Tony’s upgrade will be finished in twenty-three minutes.”

Darcy shook her head. “And my office?”

“Pepper is reviewing Clint’s report.”

Darcy looked around the store. She didn’t see the archer, but that didn’t mean anything. “Please tell me he’s not here.”

Natasha’s pseudo-smile back on her face. “He told me to tell you purple never fails.”

Darcy looked down at the see-through baby doll in her hands. It was violet. “Why is this my life?”

Natasha leaned over, took the padded hanger out of Darcy’s hands and passed it to the willowy brunette who had yet to acknowledge Darcy’s existence. With a dismissive wave, Natasha linked her arm through Darcy’s and gently led her out of the store and into the black sports car idling on the curb. She had a three hour lead on Steve. She planned on making the most of it.

* * *

“If one tag says full figured, I’m outta here,” Darcy warned as Natasha pushed open the door to a non-descript shop two blocks from Dupont Circle, the window displays she eyed from the car quieting her usual confidence. She had an ass. She had breasts. She was a fucking woman, not a damn twig!

“Trust me,” Natasha told her just before ducking behind the dark curtain that separated the store from a back room. Taking a deep breath, Darcy followed, only semi-surprised when the tiny woman perched behind the counter greeted Natasha by name. Or at least she assumed she did.

She didn’t speak Russian, so she had no idea what the two women were saying, but they seemed friendly, given the way Natasha bent down so the woman could brush a light kiss on each cheek.

She gave a small wave when Natasha gestured her way, her hand dropping as dark eyes narrowed on her. Seconds later, she was stripped bare and wrapped in a silk robe.

“Don’t be nervous,” Natasha soothed as she pressed a delicate china teacup in Darcy’s hands, ignoring the angry mutterings from the tiny woman as she pulled boxes from the shelves.

“Elizaveta has dressed me for years.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Is this where you buy Black

Widow’s seduction outfits?”

Natasha sipped her tea.

“Wait! Did you come here for Bruce?”

There was a definite twinkle in her eyes. Darcy silently toasted her friend, her nerves settling as she did so. If this place could get Bruce to let go of his hang ups, Steve didn’t stand a chance.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set, painting streaks of orange, red and yellow across the sky when Steve parked his bike along the curb in front of Darcy’s home. He took a moment to study the cream-colored townhouse with its and black clapboard shutters. Two oversized concrete urns filled with violet and white pansies were stationed on either side of the dark gray door. It was small. Homey. Tony had called it a cottage, grumbling under his breath about his image, stopping only when Pepper told him to drop it.

The front door opened. “Are you casing the place?” she called out, one bare foot tapping impatiently as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was wearing cut-off jean shorts and a plaid button-down shirt. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She must have been working because her glasses were perched on the end of her nose.

She was beautiful.

“Just taking in the view, doll,” he grinned as he walked towards her, his bag slung over his shoulder. He bent down to kiss her hello, stumbling slightly when she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and leather jacket, pulling him into her house with a strength he didn’t expect. “Darcy, what are you –“

She didn’t give him a chance to finish, slamming the door closed with her foot before she pushed his bag off. It landed on the floor with a dull thud. She started to do the same with his jacket. “Off,” she growled, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, nipping none-to-gently.

He obeyed automatically, part of him not even aware of his actions. Seconds later, Darcy leapt into his arms, groaning into his mouth when his hands automatically cupped her bottom to keep her from falling. She wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at the small of his back. “Been thinking about you,” she whispered as she pressed kisses along his jaw, her mouth moving up to his ear, her breath warm against his skin as a litany of words fell from her lips. “Remembering what you felt like inside me. God, you filled me so good, Steve. I wanna feel you in me again; want to see your face as slide down on you and take you so deep.”

He turned his head, desperate to capture her lips, yet not wanting her to stop the torturous little nibbling she was doing on his ear. He had no idea his lobe was so sensitive, sucking in his breath as she switched to the other side. He spun around and pressed her against the door, smirking at her gasp of surprise. “Hi,” he said, slightly out of breath as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Hi,” she replied in a breathy voice that filled him with a fresh wave of longing. Did she know what she did to him? Did she have any idea the power she had over him?

He swallowed the bubble of need that threatened to erupt. “I take it you missed me.”

She giggled at that, her legs tightening around him. “Maybe a little.”

He rubbed his nose against hers. “I missed you more than a little.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Every night I fell asleep thinking of you, remembering the sounds you made when my head was between your legs. I’d wake up tasting you, Darce." He pressed closer, his cock solid against her. "It left me So. Fucking. Hard.”

She dragged a hand through his hair. “You should’ve called me. I would have helped you out.”

“Yeah?” he whispered in a gritty voice. “How?”

She wiggled her hips. “I could tell you, but I really, really wanna show you.”

He loosened his hold, but kept his arms around her as she slowly slid down, letting go only when both of her feet were on the floor. He ducked his head to take her lips once more; this kiss slower and softer, the promise of more replacing the desperation he felt minutes before. “Would you believe me if I told you I was going to take things slow?” he murmured as he kissed his way down her neck.

“Would you believe me if I told you I would’ve beamed you with your shield if you did?” she countered, arching to give him better access.

He swept her into his arms, smirking at her gasp of surprise as he cradled her close. “Bedroom?”

She laid her head on his chest. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up in the next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

_Touch me deep_

_Pure and true_

_Gift to me forever_

_'Cause I'm kissing you, oh_

_I'm kissing you_

I'm Kissing You -- Des'Ree

* * *

She thought it would be awkward. She expected it to be awkward. Part of her was waiting for it to be awkward, hence the whole jump-Steve-the-second-he-gets-to-the-door move that killed her long-range seduction plan but hey - he was carrying her to the bedroom. She considered it a win.

But still. Awkward. In her experience, most first times were. OK, technically this wasn’t their first time, but it was the first time she’d sleep with Steve sober. Sober sex was way different than drunken sex.

"Hey." Steve stopped just outside her bedroom, jostling her slightly until she looked up from the extreme interest she'd taken in his plain blue T-shirt. "Where'd you go?"

She played dumb, loosening her grip on his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles left behind. "I'm right here, sugar."

His lips quirked in that smug half-grin he rarely gave anyone but her. "Sugar?"

She shrugged. She had no idea where that came from. "Thought I'd give it a try."

He leaned a shoulder against her hallway, looking perfectly at ease despite the fact she was still nestled in his arms. "Do you think about pet names for me often?"

She snorted. "I think about calling you a lot of things, though I gotta tell you the first few that come to mind right now aren't all that sweet."

He ducked his head to kiss her. "But you are, aren't you?" he murmured against skin, his lips trailing along her jaw. "My sweet Darcy … taste so good." He pushed himself away from the wall and continued into her bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, Darcy on his lap, and continued to press short, sweet kisses along her neck, behind her ears, chuckling as she squirmed against him. "Are you gonna let me in, doll?"

How did he do that? One minute she was panicked, the next she was so damn hot for him, a whole army of doombots could come crashing through the front door and she'd beg Steve to keep touching her and to hell with what happened next. She crawled off his lap, smirking as his low whine of protest. "Back against the headboard, soldier," she said with a jab of her finger.

"Bossy," he replied as he kicked off his brown boots and scooted backwards on her bed, tossing aside the pale yellow throw pillows she'd piled along the dark blue bedspread in a half-hearted attempt to decorate. The stuffed elephant he’d won for her at Coney Island, however, was carefully picked up and set on the nightstand -- face up. Darcy turned it face down. Elmore was too innocent for what was about to happen.

"You like me bossy," she smiled, her fingers fiddling with the buttons of her shirt. "We both know you have a weakness for strong women."

He tore his eyes from her hands to look at her. They were crystal blue, open and honest. "I have a weakness for you, Darcy Lewis."

"Oh God," she groaned, jumping on the bed. "You are totally ruining all of my plans!"

He leaned forward to slide his hands under her arms, dragging her up until she straddled his lap.

"Plans?" His fake innocent voice was almost as bad as hers.

"I had some heavy duty seduction plans going on up here," she told him, tapping the side of her head. "I was going to do what evil has tried to accomplish for years and take down Captain America, but then," she continued before when he opened his mouth, "you had to be sweet and get me all schwoopy inside." She poked him in the chest. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I'm sorry, baby," he said as he kissed her fingers one by one. "Tell me how to make it up to you and I will."

She watched, mesmerized, as he drew her index finger into his mouth, his eyes closing as he gently sucked it, his tongue running over her skin in a pattern she remembered from his time between her legs. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the sensation, her body going limp on top of his. God, all those people who still had it in their heads that Captain America was as pure as the freshly fallen snow had no fucking clue.

"Tell me," he repeated when he let her hand fall limply to her lap, his own hands working to release her hair from the knot on top of her head, his eyes darkening as the dark locks fell around her shoulders. He started on the buttons of her shirt next, slowly sliding each plastic disc through the tiny slit of fabric. She watched him, her chest rising and falling at the sight of his large hands against her, knowing what he'd find when he pulled the fabric apart. "Jesus, Darcy," he breathed, his pupils dilating at the sight of the dark red deep plunge bra, his large hands ghosting over the smooth satin. "You weren't kidding about bringing me to my knees, were you?"

She tried to keep the smug look off her face, sending a silent thank you to the scary Russians (Who knew there was someone scarier than Natasha?) for pushing the retro-style lingerie on her instead of the more obvious pieces. "That's not even the whole look." She forced herself to leave

Steve, just for a minute, so she could take off her cutoff jean shorts, sliding the denim down her legs quickly. She stood by the edge of her bed, her hands fluttering awkwardly before dropping them to her side. "Yeah, so ..." She bit her lip. This was the part she wasn't prepared for. Buying lingerie was no big deal. Putting it on was fine. Wearing it made her feel sexy, but this? Trying to look natural while dressed in high-wasted satin panties that matched her bra? She didn't have Natasha's training or Pepper's grace. She didn't even have Jane's innate adorableness. "I considered answering the door like this, but it's a nice neighborhood," Darcy joked. "Don't want to alienate the neighbors too soon."

Steve swung his legs around until he was sitting in front of her, bracketing her between his strong thighs. "Gorgeous," he breathed, his eyes darkening several shades as he slowly took her in. He slid his hands up the sides of her body, just ghosting the curve of her breasts before dragging them down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer into the V of his legs. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special, sweetheart."

His heated gaze was worth the hour she spent panicked over her underthings, her attempts to don a pair of high heels, to situate herself on the bed just so, only to realize laughing hysterically wasn’t remotely sexy. Steve Rogers staring at her like she was the only woman in the worlds was sexy. Seeing his hands tremble as they brushed over her skin was sexy. Listening to his breath catch was sexy. "Told you I had enough of your 'doing it right' plan."

He hummed in agreement as he ran his nose against the fabric covering her stomach. She raked her fingers through his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. He loved when she did that, pressing into her touch much like a cat or a dog. His hands still rested on the curve of her ass, flexing ever so often. As good as that felt, she knew he could make her feel so much better.

"Steve?" He looked up at her through his dark lashes. "Can you please get naked?"

"Feeling underdressed?"

Such a smartass. She loved that about him. "I'm gonna be feeling homicidal if you don't strip soon!"

In a move she didn't see coming, he had her flat on her back on the bed, his large body covering hers. He kissed her, his tongue sliding inside her mouth. He ran his hands up and down her body, his master tactician skills being used to recall the places that made her sigh or moan or – “Steve!”

He chuckled and slid down to where one hand had slipped underneath the fabric covering her mound, his fingers slowly exploring her.

“So wet. Are you always this wet for me, Darce?”

She arched her back, trying to give him better access. Her hands went to her waist, to push the damn thing off so he could get her off, but the jerk did that low rumbly laugh that somehow got her even wetter and pushed her hands away.

“Don’t want to hurry, doll. We’ve got plenty of time.”

She whimpered, actually whimpered, when he left the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, prepared to give him the what for, but then he pulled his T-shirt over his head in that by-the-back-collar move that guys do that is so unbelievably hot (that and long sleeves rolled up to the elbow; seriously, guys all know that’s what gets a girls goin’, right?). She wiggled up to the head of the bed, reaching underneath the comforter to grab a few pillows, tucking them behind her to get a better view because damn. She forgot how smokin’ hot Steve was. “Keep going,” she said with a lascivious wink. “Show me the goods.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but undid the button on his jeans, slid down the zipper and pushed the denim off his impossibly small but incredibly defined waist. She was so going to lick his abs later – right after she bit her way around his outstanding pecs. He balanced on one foot to take off one sock, then the other, but left his maroon boxer briefs on.

“Don’t stop now! Come on!” Darcy reached out and made grabby hands. “I want to see it all!”

Steve took hold of her ankles and tugged sharply, laughing as she lost her perch, her head landing on the soft mattress. He crawled up her body and kissed the pout of her lips, ducking away when she tried to bite him. “You know, part of me thought all the catcalls and cheering last time were because you were drunk.”

Darcy snickered, her hands mapping the taut skin of Steve’s chest. “Fuck that. You’ve seen you, right? I mean, dude, how do you not stare in a mirror all day and think ‘Damn’?”

“OK,” Steve said agreeably, his hands covering her breasts, nimble fingers teasing her nipples until they were stiff nubs dying for more of whatever he had to give. “How do you not spend your day looking at your breasts?”

Darcy curled one hand around his neck and brought his face down for a smacking kiss. “Who says I don’t?” she smiled against his lips, her earlier worries about awkwardness gone as lips and limbs tangled together, their bodies rolling around the large bed, first laughing, then moaning and then she was calling his name, her cries muffled because she was pressed so close to his chest as his fingers flicked and pinched her clit until she shuddered, her whole body going limp. She watched lazily as Steve licked his fingers with a wicked smile. “More naked now?” she asked hopefully.

He didn’t respond, but carefully removed the silk from her body, his lips and tongue worshipping the newly exposed skin before he took off his boxers. Wanting (seriously, wanting!) to give as good as she got, Darcy pushed at Steve’s shoulders until he flopped on his back. “My turn,” she murmured, her hands tracing the ridges of his stomach, loving how his muscles quivered at her touch. She bent her head to lick, nibble and kiss the golden skin he wore like some Brooklyn Adonis, stopping only when she felt his hands in her hair.

“Wanna see you,” he told her, his eyes dark with lust as he gathered her hair up. “Love seeing my girl’s lips on me.”

“That’s just the preview, buddy.” She slid down his body, her hands going straight to his cock. He was thick, long and she’d never been one to wax poetic about a guy’s junk, but Steve …

“Fucking A,” she murmured, her hands going around him. She stroked, loving the way his hips rose up to meet her, his eyes locked on hers the entire time. She wanted more. She wanted to see him come apart, to have him at her mercy. She shifted once more, settling on her knees between his legs, her hands still working him. She licked her lips and shot Steve her best promising smile.

“Baby …”

Whatever he was going to say next was lost on a low groan as Darcy took him into her mouth, relaxing her throat to take as much of his cock as she could. She licked around his shaft, her tongue tracing the ridges, getting him nice and wet so when she pulled back, he slid easily inside her mouth. He was too big for her to take all the way, so she kept one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, moving in the same rhythm as he mouth as she worked him over, his grunts and groans saying everything he couldn’t form the words for. She looked up once, faltering when she saw his eyes still locked on her, his gaze taking everything in. So fuckin’ hot.

“‘M gonna do you next,” he promised, his voice gruff. “Gonna bury my face between your legs and lick you until you scream, then I’m gonna do it again. You want that? You want me to eat you, get you so fucking wet that you see stars?”

She groaned, loving how the vibrations made him moan, so she did it again. Yeah, she wanted him to go down on her. She was dying to bury her hands on his hair and hold on as he did everything he promised, but first she was going to destroy him. She was going to make him feel everything he did for her. She was going to shatter him in a million pieces and then put him back together again. Steve Rogers was going down! Or, you know, she was going down on him, and yeah. She swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock, sucking his pre-cum. His hands tightened on her hair, not quite painful, but a turn-on she didn’t know she had.

“So close …” he warned. “Baby, you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you gotta tell me.”

She buried her face closer, hollowing her cheeks to pull harder. She wanted this. She wanted to taste him. His hips were moving faster. He was careful not to hurt her, not to force her to take more than she could, and she had a brief wish that he would stop being so damn considerate and fuck her mouth. Next time. Yeah, next time she’d get him to not hold back so much, but not now, not when he was so close that he was fighting to keep his eyes on her.

“Darcy!” he shouted seconds before his come hit the back of her throat. She swallowed and kept swallowing until he was sprawled on his back, panting heavily. Mindful of sensitivity, even for a super soldier, she slowly let him fall from her mouth. She sat back on her heels, feeling fucking triumphant as her gaze raked over the spent man on her bed. His hair was mussed. His face was flushed. He was gorgeous.

“You need a minute?” she teased. “I know senior citizens get tired after physical exertion. I can make you some tea, tuck you in for a – oof!” She was on her back again, Steve looming over her with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“I’ll show you old, young lady,” he promised just before his head disappeared and –

“OHMYFUCKINGGOD!”

She forgot how good he was at everything! Steve ate her out like it was his damn mission, his mouth large and wet on her, lips, tongue, teeth and fingers working her over until she was a babbling mess, her hands fisted in his hair the only thing keeping her tethered as she yelled his name.

He lifted his head, his lips with her juices. “Again."

He was softer the second time, winding her up slowly. He nudged his wide shoulders between her thighs, getting comfortable as she half-heartedly tried to pull away. “I’m not done,” he told her. “I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time, Darcy. Too damn long. Let me. Please, baby, let me.”

She relaxed under his words, his praise, his talented fingers and his wicked, wicked tongue as he slowly licked her from slit to clit.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet,” he murmured in approval. “So swollen for me, aren’t you? I’m gonna get you ready, baby. Gonna make you come so hard and when you do, that’s when I’ll slide inside you. ‘M gonna fuck you through one orgasm and straight into another.”

She forced herself to lift her head. “You monologue like this all the time?”

He responded by sucking her clit into his mouth as he plunged two fingers inside her soaked pussy. He wasted no time curling his fingers, his clever digits finding her G-spot faster than she ever did. He tapped it once, twice, before finding the pattern most likely to push her over the edge as his tongue nibbled on her tiny bundle of nerves.

“Steve! God, yes! Just like that! Just like that! Please!”

She was begging him not to stop, to keep going, her head whipping back and forth as she chased after her next orgasm. Her hips were thrusting in time with his fingers. She could feel it building. It was huge, like a storm gathering inside of her. She was going to fall apart and she welcomed it because she knew he’d catch her.

She shrieked as she came, unaware that her hands had fallen from Steve’s hair to the side of the bed as he raised himself over her. She didn’t hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper, his harsh breath as he stroked himself, but she felt him plunge inside her as her walls were still fluttering and she cried out again, her hands grasping his biceps. Her finger nails dug into his skin, leaving half-moon shapes that would be gone within the hour while the bruises he left on her would linger for days.

“You feel good, Darcy!” Steve grunted as he moved against her, the snap of his hips prolonging her orgasm until she sobbed. “I know, baby,” he soothed. “But you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart. I know you do. Come on, Darcy; for me. I want to feel you come around me. I need to feel you come around me. Missed you so much! Please!”

She had no idea how she found the strength to raise her legs and wrap them around his waist, but she did. She locked her ankles at the small of his back and held on, crying out when he sat back on his heels, dragging her lower body up onto his lap and thrusting down into her. Her eyes were so heavy, her head limp, but she forced herself to watch him. He was losing control, his thrusts coming faster, his breathing rough. It felt so good!

“Touch yourself,” he demanded.

She obeyed automatically, her hand sliding down her stomach to the apex of her thighs, her fingers brushing against where he was pounding into her. She barely bushed against the bundle of nerves before she was off again, unable to shout his name, but gasping it; breathless little catches of breath that made Steve lose it. He fucked her into the mattress as he came, his body shuddering over hers, her name on his lips whispered reverently as he buried his face in the spot where her neck met her shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

_I searched, I searched, I searched my whole life_

_To find, find, find the secret_

_But all I did was open up my eyes_

_Baby we can do it_

_we can do it all right_

Get Together – Madonna

* * *

Her hair was in his face. Or maybe her hair was on his face. When he took a deep breath, he nearly choked on the chocolate brown strands of silk – and he didn’t mind one bit. Darcy was with him. She was in his arms, warm and pliant, draped over him just as he settled her after a quick visit to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. This was what he wanted; what he dreamt of and hoped for. So what if his death was caused by Darcy’s curls? Steve couldn’t think of a better way to go – which is why he automatically tightened his hold when she moved to get off of him.

“Stay.”

She ignored him (he wasn’t surprised) and kept wiggling, which was having a very interesting side effect, but being a nice guy (Bucky would call him a sap), he let her go. Sort of. He loosened his arms, smiling when she merely shifted to slide to his side. “Stay? I’m not a dog.” She propped her head up on her hand. “Though I do seem to be shedding on you.” She pulled a few loose strands of her hair from the scruff on his chin. “Sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “but you’re clearly not thinking straight, what with the post-sex glow you’ve got going on.”

“And you are?”

She shrugged and twisted her hair in unsecured knot before resting her head over his heart, her fingers dancing over his skin in a random pattern. Steve closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her pressed against him. “Handsome,” she murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Handsome,” she repeated, louder this time.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not calling you handsome,” she scoffed. “I’m trying out pet names. You know, how you sometimes call me doll or sweetheart. Or baby. For the record, I prefer that one during sexy times as opposed to when you accuse me of pouting because I don’t get my way.”

He wisely chose to ignore the latter half of her comment. “And you’d call me handsome but I’m not?” Steve asked, jumping at her playful pinch.

“Smartass.”

“That’s not really a pet name.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be yours if you don’t shut up,” she grumbled under her breath.

He kissed the top of her head. “Steve works just fine, doll. Has for years.”

He could feel her smirk before she propped her chin on his chest. She looked at him from underneath her lashes. He forced himself to ignore the urge that look did to him, to forget that the last time she looked at him like that, she had him in her mouth, and focus on what she was saying.

“Yeah, but if we’re gonna do the couple thing –“

“Not gonna,” Steve corrected. “Are. We are doing the couple thing.” His tone was forceful, leaving no room for debate. He didn’t want there to be any confusion. No more mixed messages. No more lost time. “You and me, Darce; it’s on.”

“Fine. We’re a couple,” she conceded, but he could see a twinkle in her eye that told him she wasn’t as blasé about it as she was pretending to be. “All the more reason for me to be calling you things like honey and baby, right?” He shrugged. He never really thought about it. She tilted her head, biting her lip as if in deep thought. He knew that look. She was up to something. “So hot stuff is a go? My boo? Captain booty? Ooh, how about cutie patootie?”

He reared up, loving her shriek of laughter as he tackled her to the bed. He tickled her ribs, avoiding the thrash of her legs as she fought to free herself from his grasp. This was new, the laughter and joking around after a moment (or two) of intimacy. He’d never been this comfortable around a woman before. Pre-serum Steve was always self-conscious, wondering why a woman was with him, while post-serum Steve worried that women only wanted him because of Dr. Erskine’s formula and vita-rays.

He had no regrets about strapping himself into the container that changed his body and, ultimately, his life. For the first time, his strength and his health matched his ambition; he was finally powerful enough to make a difference. But Steve Rogers was more than Captain America. Darcy recognized that long before he did, forcing him to live in the part of the world that didn’t involve alien invasions, Hydra or drug cartels. He once thought the movies and books she pushed on him, the music she forced him to listen to, and the field trips she drug him on when he was perfectly content to spend all of his free time training were designed to expand his knowledge of the new world. It wasn’t until she left that he understood her bigger plan: that taking more time for Steve did not make his commitment to Captain America any less.

It took him a long time to realize that it was OK for him to put the shield aside sometimes and live like a person. Not Darcy. From Day One, she saw him as Steve. She appreciated his looks – Lord knows he appreciated hers – but she liked him. Not Captain America. Not the leader of the

Avengers. Not the Man Out of Time. Steve. Plain ol’ Steve.

“Yours,” he repeated as he stilled his hands.

“What?” she gasped, holding herself tense in preparation for another attack; which he’d been known to do in the past. (He liked to win. Didn’t everyone?)

“Yours,” he said again, lowering himself to nuzzle at her neck. “Call me yours because that’s what I am.”

He felt her sigh as he kissed his way down her body. “Sap,” she grumbled affectionately, twining her arms around his neck.

“Your sap,” he corrected as he mouthed her breasts, smirking at the small gasp she made when he pulled a nipple into his mouth. He slowly worked it over with his tongue, then his teeth, feeling her body tense for a completely different reason before shifting to pay equal attention to the second.

“My sap,” she agreed. 

* * *

Steve rinsed his face, swiping a pale blue towel along his jaw to remove the last of the shaving cream. He was in a hurry to get out of New York, to get on the road and to Darcy that much faster, so he passed over his usual post-mission routine in favor of a quick shower and more time with his girl. Luckily, she liked the scruffy look and he liked seeing the traces of his beard along her inner thighs, but she drew the line at hickeys on her neck and since that was one of his favorite places to kiss …

He carefully folded the hand towel and placed it on the rack near what Darcy called his sink; her side of the bathroom counter a cluttered mess of make-up, bottles and – Steve peered closer – yes, that was a roll of tape. He shook his head, knowing that if he straightened the mess, she wouldn’t be able to find anything.

He pulled a plain gray shirt out of his duffle bag and tugged it on as he padded his way down the narrow hall in bare feet. Darcy was sitting in an oversized armchair in the living room, flipping through her collection of take-out menus. Steve picked her up so he could sit on the chair with her on his lap, her legs dangling over the armrest.

“You don’t have any photos or paintings on the walls, but you have thirty-two take-out menus?”

“Dude, I’m never here,” she replied, her attention focused on food, not home décor. “I should take you to my office; it’s rocking! I’ve got pictures, a couple plants, that purple plastic dinosaur pencil sharpener Jane won for me at the carnival; the whole nine yards.”

Steve looked around, his eyes taking in the dark hardwood floors and cream-colored furniture. It was clean, tasteful and so not his Darcy. He missed her flea market castoffs, colorful throw pillows and the knitted blankets her mother made for her every birthday with the leftover yarn from other projects. (The practice resulted in some atrocious looking but oh-so-soft throws. She bequeathed him one in lilac, orange, pale yellow and green three her first Christmas in California. He kept it folded at the foot of his bed. It was his favorite napping blanket.) Steve understood that Darcy’s condo, much like his suite at the tower, was pre-furnished. Only the built-in bookshelves on either side of the fireplace were the only glimpse into her personality. There were several history tomes, some textbooks, a few dog-eared paperbacks and a handful of childhood picture books. “What’s your place at the Tower look like?”

“Right now? Boxes.” Darcy picked up her phone. “Greek OK?” At Steve’s nod – he’d eat anything – she placed their order through the restaurant’s app. “This whole commute thing is new, you know? I can be here for weeks at a time, then in New York. It’s pretty much up in the air, so when Pepper gave me a charge card for clothes, I left most of mine in New York along with everything else. I’ll figure out what I want where eventually.”

“But you brought your books.”

She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “Not all of them.”

He grinned. No, not all of them. He had some. Jane, Bucky and Sam probably did, too. The rest, he was sure, were likely stored with more care than her clothes. “I could’ve brought some of your things down,” he told her. “Borrowed Clint’s truck or Nat’s Jeep.”

“But then you wouldn’t have brought the bike and I adore Biker Steve.” She turned to smile at him. “Biker Steve is going to take me for a ride. We’re going to pick up dinner, and I’m going to try my best to get him all hot and bothered so I can return the favor when we get home.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “That’s code for I’m going to ride you later,” she whispered.

“Thanks for clearing that up, doll,” he said dryly.

“Eh, you know old people and their trouble with the new slang and lingo,” she teased seconds before pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was more about force than finesse before sliding into something deeper, hotter. Steve was just beginning to give serious thought to saying “To hell with dinner” and taking Darcy back to bed when he heard the sound of her phone’s camera.

“Do I want to know?” he asked as her fingers flew over the touchscreen.

“Just telling James all is well and he can stop fretting over your lack of game.” She pressed send with flourish. Bucky’s response came seconds later. She held up her phone so he could read it.

_Bucky: About fucking time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The purple plastic dinosaur pencil sharpener Darcy mentions is because of the one I have sitting on my desk. My youngest brother bought it for me at summer camp before I left for college. It's sat on every desk I've ever had since then.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, quite possibly, the longest epilogue in the history of epilogues. 
> 
> Warning: Nothing but fluff ahead. Crazy sweet, "It's so fluffy!" and possible cavity-inducing fluff.

_I love you Sunday sun_

_The week's not yet begun_

_And everything is quiet_

_And it's always_

_You and me always, and forever_

_You and me always, and forever_

You & Me Song -- The Wannadies

* * *

**One Month: Paper**

Darcy tapped her fingers impatiently. She lied through her teeth and told Senator Paige’s aide that no, she wouldn’t mind being put on hold. It was only the fourth time in two days she’d tried to schedule a meeting with bloated, self-important, my-eyes-are-up-here-Senator ass of a politician.

“What?!” she snapped at the quiet knock on her door.

“Sorry.” Bennet, Darcy’s assistant, timidly poked his head around the doorframe.

“No, I’m sorry,” Darcy sighed as she gestured for Bennet to come in. “Paige’s aide has me on hold again. I know he’s doing it to force a face-to-face meeting, but that’s not – oh!” She stopped talking at the sight of the bouquet of hydrangeas in Bennet’s hands. “Those are gorgeous! Who are they for?”

Bennet grinned and set the crystal vase on Darcy’s desk with a flourish. “You, boss lady.”

There were a dozen blossoms in shades of blue, purple and cream. Darcy leaned forward to take a whiff, stopping several inches from the blooms. “They’re paper!”

Bennet nodded. “That’s what I said! Kind of weird but hey, they’ll never die, right?”

Darcy plucked the card hanging from the cream ribbon tied around the vase.

_Roses are red,_

_Violets **aren’t** blue._

_One month ago you agreed to be my girl,_

_So these are for you._

_Steve_

**Two Months: Cotton**

Darcy stood in her doorway, waving until she was sure Steve could no longer see her. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. She knew what she signed up for when she agreed to date an Avenger. They had four great days together before Sam contacted him with a mission that needed his help.

Her phone chimed as she closed the front door.

_Sam: Sorry to take your boy._

_Return him in one piece and all’s forgiven_.

She didn’t have time to dwell. It was Wednesday morning and she was meeting Congresswoman Hadley in an hour. She walked into her bedroom and stopped at the sight of the small box wrapped in red and white polka dot paper. A card was tucked under the blue bow.

_When you can’t sleep with me, here’s the next best thing._

_Steve_

She ripped open the paper and started laughing. The cotton sleep shorts were red, white and blue plaid. The short-sleeved T-shirt had a cartoon image of Captain America on the front, a speech bubble next to his head with the words “Captain America wants you to get some sleep!” in bold font.

_Darcy: Love my PJs. I’ll send you a picture tonight._

_Steve: Looking forward to it._

**Three Months: Leather**

“Thank you, Pepper. I owe you.”

Pepper handed Steve the shopping bag from Barneys. “I’m happy to help,” she smiled as Steve peeked inside. Most professional women would prefer a black or brown briefcase. Darcy Lewis was not most professional women. The red leather Steve had requested when he learned Pepper was meeting with her personal shopper fit her to a T. “She’ll love it.”

Pepper, as always, was right. Darcy had squealed in delight when the courier delivered the package to her office the following afternoon.

_Take no prisoners._

_Steve_

**Four Months: Fruit**

“Has she figured out what you’re doing yet? No, wait; have you figured out what you’re doin’?”

Steve didn’t look up from the picnic basket he was filling with fruit, wine and cheese. Darcy was back in New York for the first time in weeks and he was going to make the most of it – as soon as Bucky got out of their suite. “Didn’t you promise to make yourself scarce?”

“You spend all that time looking for me only to kick me to the curb for a dame?” Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s sharp look. “Relax. She’s meeting with Pepper and Stark.” He plucked a grape from the basket and popped it in his mouth. “I’ll be gone before she gets back.”

Steve glanced at the clock. The concert at Central Park’s Naumburg Bandshell wouldn’t start for another hour. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Anything for a friend -- even if he is dragging his feet.”

“’M not dragging my feet,” Steve protested. “Darcy hasn’t had a lot of serious relationships. The ones she did have weren’t good enough for her. I’m fixing that.”

“By celebrating monthly anniversaries?”

Steve shrugged. Maybe it was hokey, but he hadn’t had many serious relationships, either. For the first time in his life, he was in love with a woman he was pretty sure loved him in return and had the financial means to show her how he felt. Maybe it was over the top, but he had a plan. He always had a plan.

“Just ‘cause I love Darcy doesn’t mean I love you any less, Buck.”

“Bite me.”

**Five Months: Wood**

The cherry wood bowl was her favorite out-of-the-blue present from Steve to date. Darcy placed it on the oak table in her entryway, tossing her keys, loose change, a roll of breath mints and Metro card inside. They stayed in the bowl. They did not slide across the surface and land on the floor, which is what usually happened and then she had to get down on her hands and knees to pick them up, banging her head on the damn table five times out of ten, putting her in a foul mood.

She propped his notecard against the side of the bowl:

_You bowl me over._

_Steve_

She’d snorted when she read it. He really was her sap, she thought as she traced his name with the tip of her index finger.

She was his sap, too.

**Six Months: Candy**

“Hey!” Clint rubbed his hand. “That hurt!”

“Don’t care,” Darcy told him, her eyes on her cards. “It’s my candy.”

“It’s poker night!” Clint protested. “You bring food to poker night, you share it! Am I right?” He looked around the table; Bruce and Tony were missing, working in the labs with Jane on something Clint was forty percent sure would kill them all. Natasha was with Pepper, which was even scarier than whatever the science trio was doing. But Darcy was there, making googly eyes at Steve whenever she thought no one was looking. It was obnoxiously cute, yet still a million times better than the look Steve got on his face every time he glanced at Darcy. “Really guys? No one’s gonna back me up?”

Thor was the only one to give him a look of sympathy, though for the first time EVER, the God of Thunder didn’t open his mouth. Steve and Sam kept their eyes on their cards, while Bucky smirked around the grape Tootsie Pop he’d plucked from the box of retro candy Steve gave Darcy that afternoon. “I hate all of you,” Clint slumped in his chair.

“Aw, Clint,” Darcy cooed, tossing two cards onto the table. She kept her expression passive as she picked up the new cards Sam dealt her. “Here.” She handed him a sheet of candy buttons.

“You have a good hand, don’t you?” He kept his voice low.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

“Make me.”

She gave him a Mallo Cup.

He shut up.

**Seven Months: Wool**

Darcy missed Steve. She had a fire in the fireplace, a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, her new wool blanket (another present from Steve) around her shoulders Superman-style and _It’s A Wonderful Life_ playing on the television. What she didn’t have was a super-hot super soldier who was called away on an emergency and kept apologizing via texts.

_Steve: I’ll make it up to you._

_Darcy: Still not happy with bad guys._

_Steve: I’ll punch them hard._

_Darcy: U do love me._

_Steve: I do._

Darcy stared at her phone. She and Steve recently passed the six-month mark of their relationship, but they had yet to say “I love you.” She knew she loved him. She was sure of it even before they made their relationship official, but given the awkwardness of the last time they shared those words, she decided this time around that actions would speak louder than words.

He, apparently, did not.

_Steve: Darcy?_

She threw her phone on the couch. What was she supposed to say? Was he serious? Did he want her to say it back? Would he believe her if she said it back? What if he wasn’t serious? What if he was just being Steve and she drops the L word? Would he freak out? Did she want to freak out Captain America before he kicked whatever-craziness-was-threatening-earth-today’s ass?

Her phone chimed again. Then again. The third time, she picked it up and glared at Bucky’s messages.

_Bucky: Answer him, dollface._

_Bucky: The world cries when Capt America pouts._

He sent a photo of Steve looking at his phone. He wasn’t pouting, but he did look apprehensive.

Shit. She wanted to tell him, had thought about doing it for months, but she was waiting for the right time. But was the right time? She never said it to any guy she dated before, never even thought she felt it with another guy, but with Steve she didn’t just feel it, she knew it. She loved Steve Rogers.

God help him.

_Darcy: I love you, too._

She would never admit under a court of law or torture that she held her breath as she watched the small dots on her screen, waiting for his response.

_Steve: Took you long enough._

She screeched in protest even though he couldn’t hear her.

_Darcy: Jerkwad!_

_Darcy: U haven’t said it to me._

_Darcy: I said it first._

_Darcy: I win!_

_Steve: Fine. You win, but I got the prize._

_Darcy: What prize?_

_Steve: You._

Again, neither the law nor torture would make her admit she got giddy over his response.

_Darcy: Stop being sappy. Get your head in ass-kicking mode._

_Steve: Will do. I love you, Darcy._

_Darcy: About fucking time._

**Eight Months: Pottery**

“I thought the whole paint-your-own-pottery craze went away when couples started getting drunk on cheap wine and fabricating priceless works of art.”

Steve ignored Darcy’s comment, pulling her closer to him as they browsed the shelves of gray pottery they could choose to paint. Steve skipped over the pet food dishes – he was not ready to have that conversation – and kneeled down to look at the collection of coffee mugs. “Would you like this one?” he asked, pointing to the oversized mug near the back of the shelf.

Darcy nudged his arm with her knee. “I think that’s supposed to be a planter or something.”

“Or Darcy Lewis’ first cup of coffee.”

“Shut up! Not all of us wake up at the butt crack of dawn as perky as a fluffy bunny.”

Steve rose to his full height. “You should really write greeting cards, sweetheart.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” She snagged a platter from a shelf and walked out of the room. He followed a minute later with the gigantic coffee mug, setting it at the table near the back of the studio they claimed as their own.

“I’m not drinking out of that thing.”

“So leave it in your bathroom for all your hair ties instead of the floor. Your vacuum will thank you.”

She dipped a paintbrush in blue paint and started covering the platter in long strokes. “Yeah, dude, you need to stop vacuuming my place every time you come over. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You are such a child. I love it!” She leaned over to plant a loud kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

**Nine Months: Willow**

Darcy was not a fan of Valentine’s Day. She was, however, a huge supporter of the day after Valentine’s Day because all those chocolate candies and chocolate flowers and pure sugar candy hearts were fifty percent off, and she freaking went to town snatching them up. Hey, it was her reward for getting through another Valentine’s Day as a single girl, OK? Only this year she wasn’t a single girl. She had a boyfriend. She, Darcy Amelia Lewis, was in a committed, adult relationship with Steven Grant Rogers.

What the hell did one buy Steve Rogers for Valentine’s Day?

_Tony: Lingerie._

_Bucky: Ditto. I’ll help you choose._

_Sam: Dude. That’s your best friend’s girl._

_Bucky: You finally admit it. I’m Steve’s best friend. Not you!_

_Clint: Gonna go with Stark on this one._

There was a pause in the group text Darcy sent asking for present ideas.

_Clint: It pains me to write that._

_Tony: Fuck off, Katniss._

_Clint: Make me, Terminator._

_Thor: MAKE HIM DINNER. A WARRIOR LOVES A FEAST._

_Tony: Yeah, and he can feast on Lewis after --_

_Tony: It’s Pepper. I apologize for Tony, everyone. I’m keeping his phone for the rest of the night._

_Clint: Haha! Busted!_

_Natasha: He can’t read that._

_Darcy: Bruce? You’re being awfully quiet. Want to weigh in?_

_Bruce: Please stop including me in these messages._

_Jane: How about a sketchbook? He always needs more of those._

_Darcy: Yeah … maybe._

Darcy’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Let him draw you.”

“Natasha?”

“Yes,” the spy confirmed. “Take Jane’s suggestion and buy him a sketchbook. When he opens it, tell him the other part of his gift is that you’ll pose for him. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what that means.”

Darcy considered the possibilities. “That’s pretty genius, Nat.”

“I know.”

* * *

She spent nearly an hour at Utrecht Art Supplies, walking up and down the aisles without a clue as to what Steve would prefer. She’d watched him draw forever; sometimes in a spiral bound sketchpad, but also on whatever paper was available – napkins, dossiers and one time Bruce’s lab notes which nearly triggered an appearance by The Hulk. After telling the woman with purple hair, silver nose ring and bitchin’ tattoo sleeves that she was fine, Darcy grabbed several leather sketchbooks in varying sizes, dumping them on the counter in exhausted triumph. “You better get me a gift card, too,” she told the cashier. “Just in case.”

Choosing an outfit for her modeling session was easier. Darcy went back to the Russian and was not surprised when she had a selection of clothing in Darcy’s size waiting.

“Natasha called you, didn’t she?”

The woman didn’t answer. Darcy shrugged, stripped to her birthday suit, and tried on various pieces of satin and silk before settling on a black bra and tap pants in sheer black with a lace pattern. She thanked the woman for her help, feeling very much like she passed some kind of test when the woman kissed both of her cheeks.

* * *

She reiterated the story for Steve, leaving out the lingerie part, as they sat at her small table in the kitchen, lingering over the remains of the roast chicken dinner she made for him because Thor had a point. Captain America could not exist on greasy takeout alone.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble for me,” Steve protested as Darcy led him to the living room.

“Says the man who needed Clint’s truck to bring me my gift,” Darcy retorted, running her hand over the bent willow chaise lounge taking temporary residence underneath her front window until it was warm enough to move it into her miniscule backyard. She already had daydreams about curling up in it after a long day with a glass of wine and a book.

“It’s pretty comfortable already, but I have the man’s number if you decide you want a cushion,” Steve settled on the couch. “I paid for it; you just have to choose the color or pattern.”

Darcy walked towards him, framing his ridiculously handsome face with her hands. “How did you get to be so perfect?”

“Serum.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and slid his present out from under the couch. “Here you go,” she handed him the towering stack wrapped in red paper with pink-and-white ribbons because if Darcy Lewis was going to celebrate Valentine’s Day, she was going all out. She watched as he ripped the paper, his eyes lighting up as ran his hands over the leather covers.

“These are great, sweetheart; thank you!”

“Yeah, well, I thought maybe you’d want different sizes, tuck on in your go bag or keep one here or whatever,” she babbled. “I don’t know. It’s kind of stupid compared to that,” she gestured to her chaise.

“It’s not stupid,” Steve stacked the sketchbooks on the coffee table. “I never owned any this nice.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you.”

Darcy smiled, glad she had that second glass of wine at dinner – not to mention the glass she drank while making dinner. “Feel like drawing something now?”

Steve looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Darcy stood up, her hands going behind her to undo the zipper of her fitted red dress with quarter length sleeves. She’s considered serving dinner in a silk robe, but thought that might give Steve some idea as to what she wore underneath. As it was, watching his eyes grow bigger and wider as she pushed the dress down to pool at her feet was highly entertaining. Go her!

“Sweetheart,” he breathed as he took in her ensemble. “Where do you find these things?”

She put one hand on her hip. “Too much?”

His eyes slowly dragged up her body before latching on to hers. “Not too much,” he told her.

“Never too much.”

“Good.” She leaned and picked up the biggest sketchpad. “Because for part two of your present, we’re going to go back to the bedroom, which I cleaned by the way, and I’m going to show you how much I love you. But first, I thought maybe you’d want to draw me.”

Steve stood up. “Draw you? Wearing that?”

She nodded, squealing when he bent down and boosted her over his shoulder, practically running down her hallway. She was laughing when he tossed her on the bed, bouncing several times on the soft mattress before she pushed herself to a sitting position. “Alright, handsome; where do you want me?”

Darcy didn’t get out of bed in time the next morning to have first pick of the half-off Valentine’s Day candy. She didn’t mind one bit.

**Ten Months: Tin**

“I still can’t believe you haven’t seen _The Godfather_ trilogy!” Darcy settled herself on the leather couch in the Avenger’s theater – yes, Tony built them a theater for team-building movie nights – giggling when Steve dove on top of her, pillowing his head on her thighs. “It’s a classic! Like you!”

“Haha,” he groaned, shifting until he found a comfortable spot, his body still feeling his afternoon sparring session with Thor. It was good that the man didn’t pull his punches, but Steve was having a hard time remembering why until Darcy started running her fingers through his hair, her fingernails scratching his scalp in a way that always made him moan.

“Um, this is family night, Cap,” Tony piped up from where he was sprawled in Pepper’s lap. “If you two kids can’t behave, we’re going to have to separate you.”

Darcy ignored Tony, choosing instead to dig her free hand into the 10-gallon tin of caramel popcorn Steve bought her that afternoon. She loved the popcorn, but she really loved the tin. It was decorated with cartoon images of the Avengers.

“Are you gonna be as stingy with the popcorn as you were with the candy?” Clint asked.

**Eleven Months: Steel**

It was getting harder. Not the presents. Steve put a lot of thought into each gift he gave Darcy, even if she had yet to figure out the significance. No, it was getting harder to wait until May 21. That was the day of their one-year anniversary; the day he’d give her the best present of all, the one he bought before all the others, the one that launched his year-long courtship. For now, though, he slid the tiny box that held a steel keychain in the shape of his shield into the padded envelope. He was on his way to a week-long team-building exercise with potential new Avengers and wouldn’t be able to deliver it in person.

“She’ll love it,” Natasha promised as the artist engraved his and Darcy’s initials on the back of the shield.

“I hope so,” he told her.

“I wasn’t talking about the keychain.”

**Twelve Months: Silk**

“Man, you have got to chill.”

Steve stopped straightening the pile of junk mail on the kitchen counter to glance over at where Sam and Bucky were sprawled on the couch, a baseball game neither of them were remotely paying attention to on the TV. “I’m fine,” he replied automatically.

Bucky snorted and took a sip from his beer. Sam was a bit more understanding. “Everything’s taken care of,” he reminded him. “She’ll be here in an hour, the two of you will go to dinner and after you’ll –“

“After what?” Darcy asked, breezing into the apartment. Steve jumped away from the counter, as if caught doing something wrong.

“Darcy! What’re you doing here?”

She gave him an odd look as she set her purse and briefcase on the kitchen table. “I live here. Remember?” She still had her place in DC, where she spent half of her time. The other half was in New York with Steve. Bucky took over the suite she never bothered to make her own.

“But you’re early! Why are you early?”

“My meeting didn’t go as long as expected, so I thought I’d surprise you.” She cocked her head, as if trying to figure out the answer to something without knowing the question. “Is that wrong?”

“No!” Steve cried, turning towards Bucky and Sam for help. The two men looked just as uneasy as he did.

Normally, Darcy would prod until one of them broke, but she was tired and in desperate need to a shower and at least thirty minutes of blissful sleep, so she decided to chalk it up to superhero stuff and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m going to get cleaned up and catch a nap before dinner. Sam, stop trying to make Bucky a Cardinals fan. That’s rude.”

All three men watched the brunette leave the room, no one saying anything until they heard the bedroom door closed.

“Still think I need to chill, Sam?”

He never answered, making up some story about having to check in with Rhodey about flight patterns before taking off. Bucky followed, clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder in show of solidarity before he left. “You’ve got this, punk.”

Steve hoped he was right. The last time he was this nervous, he was on stage as Captain America, trying to entertain a crowd of jaded soldiers in the middle of battle. Rolling his shoulders back, he walked down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Darcy, pushing open the door smiling when he saw her curled under the covers, dead to the world. He chucked off his shoes, the sound of his belt hitting the bedroom floor making her Darcy open one eye.

“We can if you really wanna, but you’re gonna have to do all the work,” she yawned as he slid in next to her in just his boxers.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes. “I can wait until you’re up for being an active participant.”

“My hero,” she sighed.

They slept through their dinner reservations. They would have slept through the entire evening if Steve’s phone didn’t wake them.

“No,” Darcy grumbled, burying her head under Steve’s arm. “Tell Loki and company to cut that shit out for one night already.”

Steve snagged his phone. He wasn’t worried. It wasn’t the Call to Assemble ringtone Tony refused to remove from the team’s phones. “’Lo?”

“You better be sexing Lewis in the back of the limo. That’s the only excuse I’m taking.”

“Tony?” Steve asked.

“Ohmigod!” Tony started laughing. “You two seriously are doing it right now, aren’t you?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Shit!” Steve leapt out of the bed. Nine! That couldn’t be true -- he never napped this long! He pushed open the curtains, blinking at the illuminated city that greeted him.

“Steve?” Darcy pushed herself to a sitting position.

“Tell everyone to hang tight,” Steve barked into the phone. “We’ll be there in forty.”

“Be where?” Darcy asked, pushing her hair out of her face. “What’s going on?” She leaned over and snagged her phone off the nightstand. “Huh,” she said, squinting at the time. “Guess I was more tired than I thought.” She turned to Steve. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He ran his fingers through his hair. OK. OK. They missed dinner. No big deal. They’d get dressed and go, maybe swing through a drive-thru on their way to the others.

Yeah. OK. “But you do need to get dressed.”

“Why?” she asked. “We missed dinner. Let’s just order something and stay in. I’ll even let you choose the movie.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” Steve opened his closet. He was going to wear a suit to dinner. That seemed stupid now. He grabbed his jeans off the floor and pulled them on. “Come on, Darce; get dressed.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s our anniversary!”

She swung her legs to the side of the bed. “Sweetie, I know, but we don’t have to go out on our anniversary. Let’s do dinner tomorrow night.”

“No,” Steve snapped. “It has to be tonight! We’re going out tonight!”

“Why?” she asked again.

Steve paused in doing the buttons on his dark blue button-down shirt. The plan was falling apart in front of him. He had to salvage this. He could salvage this. He didn’t want to wait another night. He couldn’t wait another night. He walked to his dresser, pulled open his sock drawer and grabbed the wrapped box tucked inside. “Here,” he said, sitting on the bed next to Darcy.

She stood up. “I have your present in my bag. Let me get it!”

He pulled her down. “Later. Please? I really need you to open this now.”

“OK, but then were going to talk about you and naps because you are a grump after,” she said as she pulled off the white ribbon and took the lid off the box. “I mean, sleep is supposed to make you feel better but you –“ She stopped talking when she saw what was nestled inside. “Are you … are we …” She lifted the silk sleep mask from the tissue paper, turning it slowly over her hands before she looked at Steve. “Kinky,” she said with a sly grin. “Not really what I went with for your present, but I could be into it.”

Steve forced himself not to focus on the image of Darcy blindfolded in bed (but he did make a mental note to bring the subject up later) and concentrated on the time, which was ticking away. “Baby, I need you to trust me, OK? Get dressed and we’ll go down to the car. I need you to wear that once we’re in it.”

She stood up and walked to her half of the closet. “OK, but if we end up on TMZ later, they damn well better put that black bar over the girls.”

Steve loved that Darcy wasn’t one of those women who needed hours of prep time before leaving the house. He knew she would do it for special occasions, and the results were always amazing, but he loved her just as much when she wore jeans and one of his shirts, like she was now, tugging on her favorite cowboy boots to give her a few more inches of height. She took five minutes in the bathroom for hair and makeup, coming out with red lips, smoky eyes and a loose braid down the middle of her back. “Will this work?”

Steve kissed her, tracing her full lips with his tongue before sliding inside her mouth for more. “I love you,” he said when he pulled away.

“I love you, too – even when you're being weird.” She walked out to the kitchen and grabbed her purse from the kitchen table. “Can we get French fries?”

* * *

They got French fries, Steve agreeing to let Darcy forgo the sleep mask while she was eating. She was slurping up the last of her Dr. Pepper when he crumpled their wrappers and stuffed them in the takeout bag.

“Mask time?” she asked.

“Please.”

“This better not be some stupid trust exercise,” she warned. “I already know you’ll catch me.”

“Always,” he promised, wincing when he saw Tony and Thor waiting for them on the sidewalk.

He helped Darcy out of the limousine, lifting her over the curb before taking her arm. Tony and

Thor followed silently as Steve led her into the club, being careful not to let her stumble or bump into anything as he guided her to the reserved booth.

“I smell beer,” Darcy remarked, her feet shuffling cautiously on the floor. “It’s comforting. Can I have a beer?”

“You can have whatever you want, sweetheart,” Steve said as Pepper, Natasha and Jane slid over to make room for Darcy in-between them. “You sit here and I’ll get it.”

“Wait!” Her hands flew out, snagging his shirt. “You’re going to leave me alone? Wearing this?”

“You’re not alone. Pepper and Nat are on your left, Jane’s on your right.”

“Hey Darcy,” Jane giggled nervously, stopping when Pepper leaned over to give her a look usually reserved for Tony. Natasha squeezed Darcy’s hand.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve promised, rushing over to where Bucky and Sam were waiting for him.

“Cutting it close, don’t you think?” Bucky smirked as Steve skidded to a stop.

He took a deep breath. This was it. “Dammit,” he groaned. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because it is,” Sam answered. “She loves you. She’ll love this. You’re giving her something she’ll never forget.”

“I rescued her from the Green Goblin once.”

“Something she won’t want to forget,” Sam amended.

Bucky handed him the microphone. “Go get the girl, punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve grumbled, walking to the stage. Tony had offered to rent Duets for the night, keeping Steve’s act of public bravery and likely humiliation to a minimum, but he refused. Karaoke nights with the team was one of Darcy’s ideas that helped make them a family. He never sang before. After tonight, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t again, but he’d do it once – for his girl.

“OK, everyone, we have a newbie with us tonight,” the DJ announced. “Let’s all welcome Steve!”

Steve saw Natasha whip the sleep mask off Darcy’s face when his name was announced, her eyes going wide as she took in the sight of him on the stage ten feet from the table where she sat with their closest friends.

“Um …” Steve cleared his throat. “I want to dedicate this song to a special lady who, one year ago today, agreed to be my girl.”

“Lucky bitch!” Some woman called from the crowd.

“You know it!” Darcy shouted back.

“Ready?” the DJ asked. Steve nodded, the nerves he hoped would settle once the song started shooting that theory to hell as he began to sing.

_I've been trying to do it right_

_I've been trying to do it right_

_(Hey!) I've been living a lonely life_

_(Ho!) I've been sleeping here instead_

_(Hey!) I've been sleeping in my bed,_

It helped to watch Darcy, to see her smile and clap her hands as she sang along. When Sam, Clint, Thor, Bucky and Tony (and Bruce, though reluctantly) joined him on stage to sing backup – an idea he would always be grateful to Bucky for suggesting – she put her fingers in her mouth and let out the loudest whistle he’d ever heard.

He jumped off the stage, still singing as he approached the booth, Natasha and Pepper on one side of Darcy, Jane already brushing away tears on the other. Darcy, thankfully, only had eyes for him as he stopped directly in front of her, kneeling on one knee.

_Love we need it now_

_Let's hope for some_

_Cause oh, we're bleeding out_

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweet (Ho!)_

He ignored the cheers, the whistles, and the whispers of the crowd as he set the microphone on the ground and pulled a black velvet box out of his pocket. He only had eyes for her. He had for a long time. She was his and if she’d have him, he’d forever be hers. “Darcy Lewis,” he said, the forgotten microphone amplifying his words. Sam gestured to the DJ to turn it off. Tony held up a hundred dollar bill and mouthed for him to keep it on. “This past year has been the best of my life though, when I think about it, my life got a million times better when you became a part of it. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you’ve made me.” He opened the box, the simple princess-cut diamond in the platinum setting making the women sitting with Darcy sigh. She didn’t even glance at the ring, her eyes locked on Steve. “Will you marry me?”

She launched herself at him, Steve’s strength keeping them both upright as she shouted “Yes!” before peppering his face with kisses. Darcy was a little disappointed she didn’t knock him on his ass that night. Steve made up for it three years later when the positive pregnancy test made him slump to the floor.

He had the same reaction to her second and third pregnancies, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all! Thank you for reading!


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